Out of Place and Out of Time
by Kekled
Summary: Follow Captain Stevenson and his Sherman Firefly crew as they are transported from 1945 Germany to an alternate Japan that has schools on ships and it is common for girls to drive tanks. As they fight for their recognition within Sensha-do, they represent the refined and well-educated St Gloriana's Girl's College. Rated M for language, smoking and adult themes.
1. 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own Girls Und Panzer, nor any of the characters**

**This does include many OCs and some shipping. Within this story, there are adult themes, smoking and swearing. Rated M for a reason my dudes**

**Hi! I'm Kekled and I'm new to writing on , however not new to writing fanfictions. I hope that this is good enough to go on here, but anyways, I also hope you enjoy it :)**

* * *

"O'Haire, where are we?" Captain Jason Stevenson; a tall, stoic man with courage and flame burning in his blue eyes radioed in to his loader and radio-operator, Seamus O'Haire. The radio cracked and the loader replied,

"sorry Sir, no idea. That thing we found must have moved us somewhere. But what I do know is that this is rather un-bloody-lucky. I'll return to the Firefly now Sir." The transmission from O'Haire ended. Stevenson leaned against the front of the tank and removed his black beret.

"Shit."

"That's another sixpence Sir." The gunner, Charles Samson, called out as he clambered onto the turret. He was slim, jovial looking and had too much confidence. He had bushy eyebrows with dark brown hair, was clean-shaven and a toothy grin.

"Thanks Charlie." Jason pulled his fingers through his hair, then suddenly realising he had a head full of hair. "This thing that's happened to us, it doesn't make sense. I mean, I feel great, no more pain in my back, no more baldness, but it just seems like a fever-dream."

"Well Sir, I for sure know this isn't a dream because if it was, we wouldn't be able to have freedom like this. Dreams don't usually allow other minds to converge like this. Plus, we seem to all be around the same age. I remember you having many more wrinkles Captain." The corporal replied, pulling up his binoculars and trying to see any landmarks or openings.

"Can it, Samson. Also, when did you eat a bloody dictionary?" Jason tightened his belt and rolled up his sleeves past his elbows.

"Don't know what you're talking about, Sir." Samson let out a long sigh and sat down on the turret, kicking gently against the tan-painted metal. A moment passed and a bird chirped.

"Hitch? You found any frequencies we can work off of yet?" The captain shouted towards the tank, leaning his head in wait.

"No Sir, still nothing. All I'm getting is static." Douglas Hitch, the driver climbed up from his hatch and sat on the hull. The driver was a blonde man, about the same height as the captain and a permanently tired look on his face.

"Hm, alright. That leaves us with only one option. Let's wait for O'Haire to get back and then we'll move on. Who knows what this place will bring us." Stevenson looked down at his watch, seeing that the hands had stopped moving. Rolling his eyes, he picked up the sten machinegun from the floor and put the strap over his shoulder. "Let's get _Ginny _running, boys."

"Yessir." Hitch began to start up the engine as O'Haire emerged from the thick flora of the forest. He waved to them and continued to walk over. The sergeant was a well-built red-head with thin muttonchops on his lower-face.

"Haven't seen anything yet, Sir. However, I did hear something like gunfire far in the east. I don't know if what I heard was accurate or not though. I also found a dirt road, about 100 to 120 metres that way." He pointed towards a direction, then looking down at his compass. "That'll be east- north east."

"Thank you, Sergeant. Hop up in the tank, we're going to get a move on and try and figure out where we are."

"Very good, Sir." Sergeant O'Haire pulled himself up on the hull, and then to the turret. He opened the loader's hatch and let himself into it. The Captain nodded to himself and eventually took his place in the commander's cupola of the Firefly.

"Alright Hitch, let's get us out of here." Stevenson adjusted his beret and donned the headphones for the radio. He leaned against the .50 Caliber machinegun and stared into the forest. The engine block of the tank roared to life, and lurched the vehicle forwards. The exhaust spurted as Hitch traversed the forest. "Mind the trees, Hitch, we don't want to bring ourselves any unwanted attention." Stevenson called down to his driver as a tree crumbled next to the tank.

"Will do, Sir, minding the trees." The driver copied, and proceeded to take extra caution in not knocking down any other trees.

"Hand me the binoculars would you, Samson?" Stevenson pushed his hand into the cupola and tapped the gunner's shoulder. A couple seconds later, the binoculars were placed in his hands. He pulled the lenses up to his eyes and peered into the forest. "Nothing... where could we be?" He whispered, leaning now against the back of the cupola.

"Captain, I've found something you need to see." O'Haire called out from his position in the turret.

"What is it, Sergeant?" Stevenson hung the binoculars on his neck, watching the loader's hatch opening and O'Haire popping his head up.

"I found a file, that I've never seen before, tucked under the operation folders. I read the first page and I didn't know what to make of it." The radio operator pulled a file up from the turret and gave it the captain. Stevenson turned it over in his hands, then opened it.

There were five pages, the first page stated that the _Sherman Firefly_ was fit for use, and can be added to the '_St. Glorianas_' inventory. But on one condition: The crew that rebuilt it get to use it in Panzerfahren, either in teaching or competing. Jason frowned hard, his eyes squinting and trying to make sense of what he was reading. He continued down the page and read that the originally all-girls' school 'Saint Gloriana' will become one of the first co-ed schools in 70 years. "This is... bloody hell this can't be right. Says here, that '_Ginny_' the VC Sherman will be the first 17-pounder tank to enter St. Gloriana's inventory of armoured-fighting vehicles."

"Can you repeat that please, Captain?" Hitch spoke from the side of his mouth, concentrating on not running down any trees.

"Hold on, Hitch." Stevenson flipped over a page and saw a picture of himself, in colour. Beneath his photograph was a run-down on the 'student':

_Third-year transfer student from Edinburgh, Scotland  
Name: Jason Montgomery Stevenson  
Age: 18  
Height: 6'1"  
Weight: 175lbs  
__Blood-type: O-_

One thing did catch the eye of Stevenson, and so he read it out to the crew:

_"As part of a governmental experiment, a selected group of 10 boys from each nation will be taken to a school ship that holds Panzerfahren, a.k.a Sensha-do in an attempt to see if they will take the feminine sport of Panzerfahren when they have been subject to military lifestyles. If it is a success, then the UN may reconsider having Sensha-do as a female-only sport. It is unlikely for Every admiral of the school-ships to allow the schools to become co-ed, but male-only ships may introduce Panzerfahren as a sport. Depending on the level of societal backlash, Panzerfahren may or may not, in the future, become a mixed sport." _

Stevenson flipped the next three pages and saw the profiles on O'Haire, Hitch and then Samson. He then looked at the final page and saw the print of the English crown, meaning it was accepted by the King- No, the Queen herself.

"Boys, we've either eaten some bizarre food or we are in a very, very different place. Because it says 'ere that this was accepted, and legitimised by Queen Elizabeth II. Queen, boys. Georgie is no longer on the throne. I fear we have got a lot of catching up to do." Stevenson read all of the profiles, trying to read between the lines of all the paragraphs.

"Captain, sorry to interrupt your thinking but we just got onto the dirt road. Shall we head east, toward where O'Haire heard gunshots or go the opposite direction?" Hitch had his head above his hatch, so he could gain an easier view of the surroundings as he moved the tank.

"Go east, corporal, we need to get some background information on the situation. And make it fast, I feel like these 'St Glorianas' girls are waiting for us." Stevenson handed the file down to Samson, where he opened it and started reading.

"Sir, considering our situation and our lack of knowledge on these people, should we try and play along?" O'Haire asked, feeling up his ginger stubble.

"I believe that is the best course of action for us at this moment. If what I read was true, then we won't be seeing many men on the 'school-ship' that the file talked about. That means that most of these girls aren't used to seeing lads our 'ages' everyday. And, if I'm remembering correctly there should be another 6 boys going to this school. That means they could either be from our time or they are boys from this fever-dream future of men being the inferior gender. There is also a possibility that we could be the only boys, they might have opted out since it would make sense to have two crews of five, instead of one crew of four, and perhaps two crews of three. Which would mean the tanks are either before Hitler decided to fuck up Europe or from 39 to 41: Covenanter, Crusader, Valentine, maybe even A13 Cruisers. As the brief said-"

Suddenly, a loud cacophony of sounds reverberated through the hull of the tank, shaking up the crew inside.

"Where the bloody fuck did that come from?" Stevenson ducked into the cupola as another high explosive shell landed near their tank. "Hitch, take us off the road!" The driver yanked _Ginny _down into the forest, now travelling at the maximum speed possible that the Chrysler engine allowed. "O'Haire, try connecting to a frequency, we might be in range of one now!" O'Haire loaded a shell into the gun and pulled the microphone from the radio, now trying to tune it. More shells landed near the Sherman, destroying trees and blowing up dirt.

"To any who can hear me, this is Sergeant O'Haire of the Firefly '_Ginny_'. We require immediate assistance, we're taking fire from the south in the forest." O'Haire shouted down the mic, in an attempt to gain a reply. He waited a moment, tuned the radio and then repeated the message. After a couple of seconds, the radio cackled and a feminine voice spoke through.

"_Ginny,_ I do believe you and your crew are late. You were expected to arrive three hours ago," the voice went quieter, "trust a man to be punctual, tch. If you've found yourselves on a dirt road, follow it and turn left at the junction. Carry on until you find a gate. If your vehicle gets hit, then that'll be on you, as you've walked in on a mock game."

Stevenson took the microphone and began to talk into it. "This is Captain Jason Stevenson, may I know who we're speaking to at this moment?" He clicked off the button and awaited a reply.

"Jason, this is Matcha, lead radio-operator for St Gloriana. We've been expecting your arrival, however we didn't predict the lateness. Your Firefly is the only reason you four are here. The other six had arrived on-time, giving you no reason for your lateness. Your belongings had arrived with them as well. You should be at the gate soon, We'll speak again when you arrive." After she finished speaking, the radio returned to static. All three crew members in the turret looked clueless and dumbfounded at what they had just heard. Eventually, the shooting stopped and the tank slowed to a halt. All four crew members popped their heads out of their respective hatches and looked towards the gate. Two girls in British armoured-battalion uniforms, almost identical to the mens', approached the tank.

"Which of you is Jason Stevenson?" The taller girl asked, placing her hands on her hips. Stevenson pulled himself up from the cupola and jumped down from the tank.

"That'll be me." Stevenson walked towards the girls, pulling the headset around his neck and removing his beret, halving it and tucking it under his right shoulder strap. "I apologise for our lateness, we got mixed up since the timezones are different."

"Wait, so you four actually came from Britain?" The shorter girl piped up, a large smile now on her face.

"Yeah? We're all speaking English aren't we?" Stevenson frowned, looking back at his crew. He turned back to the two girls, who looked very confused and concerned.

"No... did you hit your head, Jason?" The taller girl asked worriedly. O'Haire quickly caught on and patted his Captain's shoulder.

"Yep, on the way here he banged his head when we hit a dip. Shook 'im up good." O'Haire made a look that said 'play along' to his Captain. "You sure you're ok, Captain?"

"Ah, yeah. I'm alright. Sorry." A rush of worry invaded his mind, knowing the Japanese traditions and customs were a lot more different to British ones. Trying to remember some of the things he had read, he attempt a bow. The girls seemed reassured, and nodded.

"I'll let Darjeeling-san know you're here safe and sound then." The shorter girl walked towards a small white hut that sat beside the gate. The taller girl rummaged around in one of her jacket pockets and pulled out a piece of paper."Take this, it's a map of the deck of the ship and the harbour we are at right now. You want to arrive at this area on the deck, these are the buildings housing our tanks and military vehicles. The Firefly has been booked into the fifth hangar, take it there and wait for a member of the motor club to assess it. After that, you must wait for Darjeeling-san to talk to you. Be quick, Jason-kun." The girl saluted and stepped to the side, allowing the Firefly to slowly move up.

"Thanks?" Stevenson took the papers and analysed them. He folded them back up and placed them in his left chest pocket of his jacket. Both O'Haire and Stevenson jumped up on the tank as it passed, climbing onto the turret. The gate rattled as it slid open. Hitch pushed the tank past the fencing and followed the route that Stevenson was directing him along. Samson turned the turret so the barrel went over the engine deck and secured it into place. O'Haire looked on at the Japanese structures and architecture, seeming so alien to all four of them as they drove along. Stevenson sat on the hull next to Hitch, guiding him along. The Irishman grabbed his flask of water, drinking from it and closing his eyes, feeling the fresh air hit his face. The radio crackled and another, different female voice piped up.

"Hello? Is this the Firefly?" The voice asked. O'Haire scrambled down into the turret and picked up the receiver.

"Yeah, this is O'Haire of the Firefly, who is this?" the Irishman scratched his head, seeing Samson looking over at him with a raised brow.

"You can call me Rosehip-chan, We've finished up our training you interrupted a little while ago and now following your tracks. We'll catch up to you soon." The girl ended the transmission, leaving O'Haire with a confused look.

"I swear I've drank a cup o' tea with that name. She said 'Rosehip', didn't she?" He asked Samson, and he merely shrugged.

"Isn't Darjeeling also a type of tea? Are they taking the feckin' piss or is it a coincidence?" the sergeant leaned back into the turret and put the microphone back next to the radio.

"Can't say, sergeant. But whilst Hitch is gettin' us to where we're 'sposed to be, I'm just gonna take a nap." Samson pulled his jacket over his face and leaned into the turret. O'Haire shook his head and pulled himself up onto the commander's cupola, looking around. He turned to look behind him, seeing a column of Matilda's and a few Cromwell's.

"Captain, we've got an escort." O'Haire sat on the turret and waved his arm at the girls, only receiving a timid wave in return from the commander of the lead Cromwell. Stevenson clambered onto the turret, seeing the Cromwells now only a few metres behind their Sherman.

"Stay casual, Sergeant. These girls seem like their actions are by the book." Stevenson moved closer to the loader. "If we mess up big time, who knows what could happen. If we work our arses off, then we may be able to get more intel on whats happening."

"Very good, Captain." O'Haire gave his superior a short salute and turned his back to the column of tanks following them.

"We're coming up to the harbour now Sir- fucking hell that's a big ship." Hitch stared up at the towering silhouette of the Ark Royal, the St Glorianas school ship.

"I think that deserves that kind of language." Stevenson and O'Haire looked on at the ship in awe. Stevenson analysed the hull of the ship, a look of surprise taking over. "Bloody Hell, that's the Ark Royal. But... a lot bigger. How on Earth did they manage the materials for that massive ship? And you're telling me there's a town and a school on that ship? Jings Crivens and help ma Boab..." The Captain swept his brow before scratching his head, watching as they got closer to where they'd board the colossal vessel.

"Should I let one of the Cromwells overtake us Sir?" Hitch shouted back, not taking his eye off the road.

"Go on, Hitch. I'll ask them to show us the way." Stevenson fixed his beret as Hitch moved the Sherman to one side, allowing the lead Cromwell to travel alongside them. "Mind showing us the way to hangar five, lass?"

The commander of the Cromwell had short, dark red hair and a small stature. She sneered at the Scot and nodded, "Can you boys not follow a map?"

"Oh, we can. We've had a lot of map reading training back home, we just wanted to be sure." O'Haire spoke up for Stevenson, receiving a glare from him. The Irishman's excuse seemed to satisfy the red-haired girl, her smug look on her face being wiped off.

"Very well then, follow us." The commander tapped twice on the turret, then the Cromwell sped up and allowed more space for the Firefly to enter the column. O'Haire stepped down into the basket and sat, pulling a couple of folders stowed next to the radio. He opened up the Transfer File and began to re-read it, just in-case be misread or forgot anything. The Captain watched as Hitch brought the Firefly smoothly up the ramp, still following the leading Cromwell and the smug-looking girl. The tanks followed a metal road along the side of the ship, then a turn and entered a large tunnel. They slowed and then turned to go up another ramp that took them to the surface of the ship. Stevenson breathed in, filling his lungs with the fresh harbour air and the metallic scent of the tanks. The column travelled towards a large field, then to a gravel opening where five large hangars sat on the opposite side. Hitch broke from the column as he saw the number '5' painted on the right-most hangar, taking the tank into a lower gear as they got closer. Stevenson waved to the red-haired commander as the Sherman found its new home.

Minus five other tarp-covered vehicles, the Firefly was the only active vehicle in the hangar. Hitch stopped the tank abruptly, hearing a bang and colourful language being used from the gunner's seat.

"Oi, ya wanker. What the bloody- oh, we're here." Samson climbed out of the turret, rubbing the area on his head where he hit it. Stevenson had already jumped down, inspecting the tank and moving to the rear.

"Boys, make yourselves look presentable. Looks like royalty is arriving." He pulled out a box of cigarettes and placed it in his mouth, moving his right hand to his back pocket and taking out a gold-plated lighter. A Purple Riley Nine Falcon entered the Hangar, stopping six metres away from where Stevenson was standing. Stevenson cupped his hand around the lighter as he lit the cigarette, he then closed the lid and placed it back in his pocket after the end burned orange. He stared at the expensive car as two girls gracefully left it. One was blonde-haired, stunning features and a look in her eyes that screamed calmness. The other girl was much shorter than the first, had orange hair worn in two twisted buns tied above the nape and a cute smile. The two girls were both wearing a blue uniform, dark blue sweater, blue skirt, black stockings and a white shirt. The blonde girl wore her hair in a French braid tied at the nape and had an aura of superiority and power to herself, like she was made for leadership. She approached the Firefly's commander and smiled at him, then closed her eyes.

"I don't know if you are up-to-date with smoking policies, but we don't smoke on school grounds. And to Japanese law... you're underage." The blonde girl simply smiled, her hands by her side. Stevenson sighed and nodded, taking one, long drag and then dropped it on the ground. He stepped out the light and looked back up to the girl. "Oh, I apologise, I haven't introduced myself." The girl bowed her head. "My name is Darjeeling, overall commander of the Sensha-do club for St. Gloriana's Girls College. The kind girl beside me is Orange Pekoe, my best-friend, and loader to my tank. I'd like to personally welcome you and your crew to the newly co-ed school. The other boys arrived earlier, but I'm sure you have a valid reason for your lateness. I daren't take up any more time. If you would like to come with us, that would be splendid." Darjeeling clasped her hands together above her chest, smiling at Stevenson and the now approaching O'Haire.

"O'Haire, tell Samson and Hitch to wait here for the uh..."

"Motor club."

"The motor club, and then all three of you wait for further instructions." Stevenson handed his loader his headset for the radio and his Webley revolver. "Look after that please." O'Haire nodded and walked back towards the awaiting gunner and driver of the Firefly.

"You're Stevenson-kun, aren't you?" Darjeeling assumed, looking hopefully at him. Nodding, Stevenson removed his black beret and tucked it once again under his shoulder strap.

"Aye, that's me. But please, call me Jason." Stevenson bowed, getting a slight head bow from Darjeeling and Orange in return.

"I hope you have read the file that was sent to you, and why you're here."

Stevenson nodded, breathing in and scratching the back of his head. "Yep, we're here purely as a governmental experiment to see if boys want to do tankery as a club. And, I don't know if you noticed but my boys and I are pretty deep into it." He grinned at the girl, crossing his arms over his chest. "To be honest, from where I come from its more common for a man to be in a tank, but it's quite pleasing to know that lasses over 'ere tend to be the crew rather than men. From what I've seen, you girls have higher success rates than men, which I applaud. It's good to see that times are changing."

"I appreciate your honesty, Jason, it's good to hear a man agreeing rather than disagreeing. Sensha-do has been practiced since the 1950's in Japan, and was a way for women to build their self-esteem and self-images. From the fact that it's still widely practiced globally, I believe it's supported quite a lot. Now, let's get going. We've got a lot more talking to be done." Darjeeling and Orange turned and went back to the car. Orange sat on the passenger's side and Darjeeling behind the driver. Stevenson took one last look at his crew, waved to them and climbed in, closing the door. The driver started up the car again and pulled the Falcon out of the hangar.

With the car, the Captain, and the two beautiful girls out of sight, the remaining tank crew all relaxed into where they were standing and sitting.

"Jesus Christ, did you see the body-" Samson, who was ogling Darjeeling for the majority of the interaction, was now on the cold hangar floor clutching his stomach. O'Haire relaxed his arm and shook his head.

"I've got to say, are we lucky to be surrounded by girls, or unlucky?" O'Haire rubbed his stubble and looked up at Hitch, who was writing out a crossword puzzle in a book.

"I'd say that I don't care, Sergeant. I've got a girl back home that I'm going to marry when the war is over. However, that Orange Pekoe girl did look like her too much, so if we can't go back then... I don't know..." Hitch laid back on the engine block of the Firefly, his heels slowing kicking the metal.

"Welp, guess we've got to wait now. Let's make sure _Ginny _is ready for those motor club girls. Also, we need to get rid of our cigarettes, any alcohol and hide the guns we have on this baby." O'Haire took his Captain's Webley and stuffed it into a bag, taking the other two's Colt.45's and his own Hi-Power .45 to put into the bag. Hitch and Samson were reluctant at first to hide and stow away the 'contraband' but it was a necessity if they didn't want to get punished by the Captain.


	2. 2

**Hi again! It's me!**

**This chapter is going to be longer than the last one, maybe about 6k-8k words, idk yet****. It'll include the crew getting used to modern-ish technology, Japanese rules and customs, and trying not to annoy the girls of St Gloriana. However, our Captain's eye has been caught by a specific blonde commander and it's tough for him to stay stoic in front of her**

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"Nice car," Stevenson said quietly, looking around the perfect leather interior of the Riley Nine Falcon. The seats were plush, but barely had enough space for him in the back. Sometimes he cursed his height as it hindered some abilities in the cramped space of the Firefly.

"Thank you, we've had this in our garage a year before this school began Sensha-do. The motor club has kept it in top shape, spanning over a generation of students to look after it." A light bulb seemed to flicker on in Darjeeling's head. "You are transferring into the third year, aren't you? Your loader is a second year and the other two are first years, correct?" Stevenson took a moment to function, trying to remember the files that were created for them.

"Uh, aye, that's right. You've done your research." Jason smiled at the girl sitting beside him.

"I like to make sure that new students entering our school are fit for us. We don't like to bring in disobedient, or misbehaving students. It could influence others to bring down unit cohesion during a match." Darjeeling gave him a warm smile in return.

"That makes sense, my school back home was an all-boys school. And let me tell you, it was mainly disobedience and misbehaving students. Such a nightmare." Now getting comfortable, Stevenson was starting to slowly get used to everything. Although there was a lot to take in and try to understand, he seemed to be quick in adapting.

"However you're neither of those things, from what I've read, which I find impressive. Proves how good of a commander you are then. Well-spoken, calm, can adapt quickly. From what I've read of the other three, do you think your gunner and driver will be a problem?"

"A problem? No, they're good lads and I trust them deeply. If they ever step out of line then I'll have a word with them. I don't want to ruin this perfect opportunity." Jason sat back in the seat.

"I appreciate your attitude towards subjects like that," she paused to think. "Do you like tea?" Darjeeling asked, with a hopeful look on her face.

"Jesus, asking that question is like asking if cows eat grass," Stevenson chuckled to himself "I love tea, can't get enough of it."

"Splendid, Orange Pekoe?" Darjeeling called out to the girl beside the driver.

"Yes, Darjeeling?" Orange looked behind to the blonde girl.

"When we arrive, do you mind putting on the kettle?"

"Of course, it'd be my pleasure!" Orange Pekoe gave the commander a sweet smile and turned back to the front.

"Jason, as you probably already know, your 17-pounder gun is the most powerful to be added to our inventory yet. However I know it will be the first of many when we manage to buy more. I do believe with the power of your tank and your crew, we'll be able to win more games. Hopefully, your boys can work well with our school. Oh, and by the by, the other six boys haven't yet signed up to Sensha-do, and haven't shown much interest of yet. I do believe it is because the sport is more feminine, so they could be worried about damaging their masculinity. Many people have many different views about having men in the sport. Either people hate it, can't agree with it or want boys to compete. Many girls here haven't seen many boys, so seeing one every day in their class will be unusual for them. So in that case, please refrain from making them uncomfortable. As much as we would like to make you comfortable, please do the same for our girls." The car parked just as she finished her sentence. Everyone got out of the car. Darjeeling and Orange began walking towards a large, grey/white structure that worked as the main building to the St Gloriana school.

"I plan on doing my best for both the school and the girls, however, we still need time to adjust. In all honesty, we're not too familiar with Japanese customs. We'll try our best to stay in line, but that might be the only thing we can do." Jason walked alongside Darjeeling as they entered the school. As it was currently during a lesson, no one was outside. Glancing into some classroom windows, Stevenson saw that every class was filled with girls. As they were currently on the bottom floor, this was the first years. The three of them began to climb a staircase that sat at the end of the hallway, going all the way to the third year story. "I do have one concern though, however, I might know the answer to this... Where will my lads and I be sleeping? Because I didn't get any papers talking about housing arrangements."

"Oh, did you not? I apologise. That's actually one of the topics I was hoping to talk about too because we have a few options for you and your crew." Darjeeling stepped in front of a door with the sign "Student Council" written above it. The blonde commander opened the door and entered, Orange following closely with Stevenson taking a moment. He closed his eyes and quickly recollected everything that had happened since he left the barracks earlier that day.

"Such a bloody queer day..." He whispered to himself, took in a deep breath and entered the room. In the center of the room, a glass coffee table sat surrounded by three identical red sofas, with blue headcovers that had the St Gloriana emblem imprinted on them. Darjeeling gracefully sat down on the left-hand sofa, softly placing her hands clasped on her lap. Orange was already preparing the tea, moving around the expensive-looking china and sorting out the teabags. Jason found himself sitting directly opposite to the blonde girl, trying to get comfortable on the hard fabric.

"So, before we begin, do you have any questions?" Darjeeling looked directly into his eyes, unwavering and with heavy reason. Jason stared back, taking in the beautiful blue eyes that she had.

"Yeah, I think so. More might come up during our conversation though." Stevenson rubbed his chin, averting his gaze to a random part of the white carpet.

"Brilliant, then let's get started."

* * *

"What do you think they're doing? Pretty suspicious if you ask me that they wanted only him and not us too." Samson exclaimed, pulling the trigger to fire at the next target.

"I've learned not to question our Captain, he always knows what he's doing. Remember in El Alamein? When we were getting flanked by infantry and tanks?" O'Haire chucked the empty shell out the left side of the turret, then quickly loading the next High Explosive shell.

"I'll never forget that day. He saved our arses, that's for sure." Samson hammered the next target, watching it burst into flames and ash falling around it. Two St Gloriana students were quickly writing down notes beside the Firefly, monitoring the skills of the crew and rating how well they work together. The fact that they were casually talking to each other whilst operating at incredibly efficient speeds held the ratings high. Watching on in awe, the two girls were highly impressed in the output of the male crew.

"Getting low on ammo, corporal. Pass us up some more would ye?" O'Haire loaded the second to last shell, adjusting his position as Samson traversed the turret. Hitch, without a second thought started manhandling the next shells to the Sergeant. With a quick 'cheers', the Irishman loaded the next shell, chucking the spent one out of the turret. "We done yet, ladies? Because these shells aren't cheap." The 17 pounder thundered across the range again, hitting a target directly in center of mass. The target crumbled away in pitiful flames, the two girls watched as they gave the crew a 95% cohesion rate, the second highest one given. Darjeeling and her crew were given 98%, so this was brand new to these two girls monitoring boys getting barely lower scores.

"The tests have been concluded, thank you for the results you've given us," both girls bowed in appreciation. All three crew members did the same in return, grinning at each other. "Surprisingly, you have incredibly high cohesion rates. You work well as one unit. That is extremely useful in difficult situations. However tomorrow, we'll need to test your teamwork skills."

"Shouldn't be a problem Miss, never once had a problem with other people." Samson winked at the girls, causing them to become very slightly flustered. O'Haire ejected the last empty shell and tossed it onto the pile beside the tank, he jumped down from the turret and stood in front of the two girls.

"Now what would you like us to do?"

"Well, since the next test is due for tomorrow... you will have to wait for your captain to return to the hangar. I suggest you wait there for him." The two girls about-turned and walked away, leaving the three boys to think and ponder about what tomorrow would bring them.

"Aight lads, let's get going then. Hitch, start 'er up and take her to the hangar." O'Haire pulled himself up onto the engine deck, standing behind the turret. The engine sputtered to life and fumes burst out of the exhaust pipe. Samson was already in his gunner's seat as Hitch pulled away from the firing range and turning back to where they were told to go. "Oh, looky here. They left us spare tools and a tarp." O'Haire jumped down from the tank, seeing it begin to park into its allotted area within the vast hangar. Hitch stopped the engine, he and the gunner began closing and tightening up the hatches. The driver patted the inscription of the name '_Ginny_', now walking over to O'Haire and the table he was standing over.

"What is it, corporal?" O'Haire looked up at the driver, with a spanner in his hand.

"What are we doing here, sergeant? Why are we here?" Hitch's gaze dropped to the floor.

"I believe it's a cruel twist of fate that brought us here. But, if we're here for the long run, then it just adds years onto us. The way I see it, it's another try at life. God in the heavens has graced us with new possibilities, why he chose us I'll never know... but it must be for good reason, else he wouldn't have done it." O'Haire smiled at the driver, patting him on the shoulder.

"I miss everyone... My mum, my sister... Dad..." Hitch's posture looked like it would crumble with just a short gust of wind.

"I know, I do too, Doug. We'll go back home eventually, I'm sure we will." The radio-operator embraced the younger boy, feeling his sobs shake on his chest. O'Haire stayed silent, in part because he didn't know what to do. He's only ever seen his younger sister and his mother cry, and his father would punish him if he showed any sign of weakness. In another part, he wanted Douglas to let it out. They were involuntarily brought into a world they know nothing about, and forced to play along with it all. O'Haire wanted to reflect back on it too, but he thought it'd be best to allow Hitch let it all out. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the same purple Falcon from earlier pull up into the hangar. Hitch quickly pulled away from the hug and wiped his eyes, standing to attention. Samson ran up beside the driver and copied him. O'Haire watched in fascination at how quickly both of them acted.

Captain Stevenson was seen getting out of the car, saying a few words to the other passenger and closing the door again. The car left, as quickly as it came. The Captain walked over to the trio and received a salute from them. He replied with a short salute and stepped towards the table. He stood on the other side to the trio and put his hands flat on the wooden surface.

"At ease, lads. I've got a lot to talk about." Stevenson looked up at the three, who were eagerly waiting for what their CO had for them. "Now, the first thing is _Ginny, _I see the cover has already been pulled over her, splendid. We need to paint the barrel, so it looks like a 75. Samson, can you do that tomorrow please?" The gunner shot into attention and saluted.

"Yes Sir." the brown-haired boy pulled down his arm and went back at ease.

"Fantastic. The reason behind that is because the opposing schools will know to focus us, since we have a gun that can destroy all possible opponents."

"Sorry to interrupt sir, but... opponents? You mean to say we're going have to compete against other schools?" O'Haire raised a quizzical eyebrow.

"Yes. There are a number of schools we should worry about. Since every school has received new male students, some could be like us. There's a school that holds American tanks, it's called Saunders. Darjeeling is on good terms with Saunders, and we need to show them that we can do well. Another school holds Russian tanks, they're called Prav...da? Yeah, Pravda. As we're allies on the front, and shared a common enemy, we're only allies." Stevenson took in a deep breath. "There's also a school that holds Jerry tanks. Called Kuromorimine. If we come across their male tank crew, if they have one, we have to be on our toes. We must remember that they are still our enemy. If you ever see a Jerry, let me know. Kuromorimine and St Gloriana are not on good terms. They've often been neck and neck at competitions. St Gloriana is superior in tactics, but Kuromorimine is superior in firepower and in numbers. We can't afford to lose to them, else we're admitting defeat back home."

"It won't happen Captain, we can all promise you that!" O'Haire grinned from ear to ear. Both Hitch and Samson agreed, smiling at their captain.

"Thanks, lads. I appreciate that. Now, there's something else that I've been meaning to ask you all as well. Living arrangements. It's either bunking in one house together, or living separately near each other." Stevenson stood up straight and crossed his arms. Personally, he didn't mind which they chose since he would sleep literally anywhere if there was a bed. The other three took a moment to think, and talked among themselves about it. In the end, it was decided that they all would live separately near each other. Stevenson was ultimately happy that they chose this because there had already been four small flats prepared for them earlier that day, according to Darjeeling.

"So, do we go there now?" Samson asked, adjusting his belt and shirt.

"There's a transport truck waiting for us at the front gate of the school. It''ll be taking us and our belongings to where we'll be staying. However, I feel like these things that claim to be our belongings aren't what we put in our bags back home..." A frown covered the Captain's face as he stared out of the hangar.

"Well, whatever may be in those bags will probably be uniforms. Similar to those that the girls were wearing." The radio operator picked up the recently assembled toolbox.

"Most likely..."

"What if some of our personal belongings came with us?" Hitch questioned, causing Stevenson to break out of his stare.

"Then... I don't know. Go to the truck, I'll meet you there, I've got something to do first." The three other crew members nodded, not questioning their commanding officer's desire. They took what could be useful for their new homes and left the hangar, leaving their captain alone, in the near pitch black of the vast, cold, metal building. Stevenson walked towards the Firefly, softly placing his left hand on its hull. "You've done us proud so far, old girl. Do you think you could help us some more? We need you to be working your best the next few weeks. Maybe months... or years..." He carefully clambered up onto the Sherman and opened the cupola hatch, letting himself down. Reaching to his spare pack of cigarettes he kept in the tank, he looked over the khaki coloured container.

Slowly, he opened it up and picked one out, eyeing it. He pulled his lighter out of his jacket breast pocket and flicked it open. He placed the cigarette between his lips and cupped his spare hand over the flame, lighting the end. Taking a long drag and staring into nothing, he flicked closed the lighter and returned it to the pocket. "I'm sorry, Mother... I don't think I can come home this time..." Puffing the smoke again, he let his head fall into his hands. "I'm sorry, father, for not being the man you wanted me to be. I tried, I really did..." Stevenson felt the shakes come back, the constant bouncing of his knee returning as his mental walls started to crumble. He put the cigarette to his lips and took another drag, closing his eyes and rubbing the bridge of his nose between finger and thumb. A single tear dropped from his cheek. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry... I'm sorry... I just want to see you again, just one more time..." Jason leaned his head against the turret, closing his eyes and taking another drag of the white stick between his fingers.

* * *

"He sure is taking his time, isn't he?" Samson looked worriedly back towards the school, now sitting in the back of the truck along with O'Haire and Hitch. Hitch continued digging through one of the bags with his name on it, unfamiliar with the 'suitcase' that was definitely not something he'd ever used back home.

"Aye, must be something important then. We shouldn't guess what he's doing, it's disrespectful." O'Haire fished a wash-bag out of his suitcase, looking inside and his eyes widening at the rich quality washing supplies. "I think my family is rich, here. That is, if I even have a family here."

"What if our family is still the same as before we came here!" Samson's eyes widened at the theory, leaning forward and a huge smile adorning his face. Hitch, upon processing what Samson had just said, turned to face him with eyes brighter than the sun.

"How would we be able to check?" O'Haire raised an eyebrow, closing the wash-bag and placing it back in the suitcase.

"Well, we're still Charles Samson, Douglas Hitch and Seamus O'Haire! So obviously we have family!"

"You're right! There must be an easy way to find out..." Hitch looked away in thought, furrowing his brows.

Clicking his fingers, Samson grinned. "Our student files at the school! They've got to have something on us, right?"

"I mean, probably. A rich, refined school like this would want to go deep into a transfer students' background... like a boarding school would." Leaning back into the truck, Hitch chewed the inside of his mouth.

"Exactly, we'll be able to check tomorrow during our first day." Samson looked up in thought, scratching the back of his ear.

"No need." A familiar, bedraggled voice emerged from the ever-growing darkness. "I asked for said files on the way out. Got 'em 'ere because I heard one of yas talking about family before." Captain Stevenson climbed into the back of the truck next to Samson, passing around each crew members' file. Samson and Hitch jumped into their files, rapidly reading what was there. O'Haire didn't seem too excited, carefully peering at the printed words as if he was going to find something he wouldn't like. The truck's engine started up, slowly pulling the boys and their stuff out of the school grounds and into the town. All four of them were reading their files, saying nothing other than the odd 'huh' or confused 'what?'

Day eventually turned into night, the boys shortly arrived at where they'd be staying and unloaded the truck themselves. Saying thank you and goodnight to the driver, Stevenson led the three other boys to their new homes: a convenient row of four flats on a second floor of a complex, clean and well-kept. Stevenson took the one closest to the stairs, O'Haire next to his, then Hitch, and Samson at the end. As they said goodnight to each other, they carried their belongings inside.

Stevenson locked the door behind him, then searching for a light switch. He flicked on the light and saw the flat. Small, which wasn't surprising as it was meant for only one person, the bedroom seemed to be the dining and living room put together; with the mattress, TV and table all together in the same area. His kitchen was just to the right of the front door, separated from the main room by a small wall and no door. Sighing, Stevenson dumped his bags in the main room, untying his boots and pulling them off before laying on the mattress. He put his arms behind his head and stared up at the ceiling. White. Just like the front room. The walls in the main room were painted a baby blue, with nothing but a simple white clock hanging on the left wall.

Stevenson got out of the bed, not being able to fall asleep. There were too many thoughts running around his mind and he couldn't empty his mind. His moved over to his bags and started unpacking them, surprised at every weird and new thing he found. One thing that truly surprised him was a little machine, after pressing a button the glass on the front lit up. It showed the time, date and a picture of him and the other three crew members. Something clicked in the back of his head, and suddenly he knew how to use this bizarre machine. He unlocked the screen and started looking through all of the apps and messages he's apparently sent.

"This doesn't make any sense... I've never seen this in my life but I've got a history within this thing?"

Two strong knocks echoed into his room from his front door, causing the captain to perk up. He pushed himself up from the floor and stuffed the phone into his back pocket. Cautiously walking to the door, he unlocked it and opened it by a foot.

"Sir. I'm sorry to disturb you." O'Haire saluted, he had his overshirt off and wasn't wearing his beret. His red hair was ruffled, and his eyes worn down by exhaustion.

"It's alright, sergeant. Come in. What did you need?" Stevenson opened the door fully, motioning for the Irishman to enter the flat. He closed the door behind him and they both walked into the main room.

"I realised something whilst going through my stuff. Whilst the boys were going through their stuff as well, we were finding things we never knew existed or remember having back home. But, there was something I realised with both Hitch and myself." O'Haire sat down on the floor at the table, then pulled out something that looked similar to Stevenson's phone. He held it up so his captain could see.

"You have one too, then?" Stevenson pulled out his own and placed it on the table, sitting on the opposite side to the loader.

"A couple years ago I read a book on the soul, by Plato, the ancient Philosopher."

"Didn't think you were that kind of person, Seamus." Stevenson chuckled lightly, receiving a smile and a shake of the head.

"I was reading it because I was waiting for someone, I got bored. But anyway, Plato made the point that we remember past life experiences in learning. Essentially, in a previous life we knew how to use these things. The more we use them, the more we remember about this new technology." O'Haire opened his phone and started going through it. "I'm going to assume that you've only recently 'remembered' some of the new things."

"Yeah... but how sure can you be that this is happening?" Stevenson frowned, confused and intrigued in what the sergeant was talking about.

"Plato used the example of a slave boy called '_Meno'. _Plato gave the boy a puzzle of shapes and numbers. Knowing full well that this boy had no education, Plato made the assumption the boy couldn't do it, however with vague guidance from another scholar, the boy managed it. The boy managed to solve a puzzle he had no knowledge about. Plato claimed that humans, when learning, are in actuality remembering the knowledge they once had in a previous life." O'Haire closed his phone and placed it on the table. "However, in our case it seems to happen at a much faster pace. We've eased too quickly into this new world, because we once lived in it."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that we lived in a world like this once, because we know how to operate the technology that should seem foreign to us. But they don't, so it can only come down to one conclusion, which is that our soul existed in a different body, but a similar world." O'Haire placed his hands flat on the table. "This may be a lot to take in, but I think this is the only explanation." Stevenson nodded, absorbing what O'Haire had just said to him.

"Well, I wasn't going to sleep tonight anyway..." Stevenson jokingly stated, shaking his head. "I guess we've got a lot of stuff to catch up on then?"

"When I got into my flat earlier, I began doing some research on us, the schools, and our world."

"And what did you find?"

"This school, and quite a few others were all based on their founders' nationality. For St Gloriana, it was a British merchant trader. Anzio high, the Italian-inspired school was founded by an Italian businessman who wanted to show the Far-East Italian culture. Pravda, Kuromorimine, Saunders, and many other schools were founded by men and women who wanted to show Japan their nations' culture. Their culture quickly became popular around Japan. Of course, some schools are more popular than others. Some have more money than others. Their level of power mirrors that of our powers back home. The American school is rich, the Russian school is power-hungry and always wanting to expand its power, the German school is refined and prideful. St Gloriana, our 'new' school mirrors stereotypical British culture of the 1930s and 40s. However all of these schools are Japanese and carry the same customs, norms, and values. As you know, it carries the same laws, too..." He was referring to the smoking incident earlier, where Stevenson was forced to step out his cigarette. O'Haire sighed and leaned back on his hands. A silent second passed.

"You didn't get rid of the pack, did you?"

"No."

"Why?"

"When I smoke, it reminds me of the man I am... or once was, I still can't get used to how I'm 18 again..." Stevenson looked down at his hands, turning them over and feeling how much less rough they were compared to the hands he once had. "Smoking reminds me of my father, and my life before the war... It's not something I want to forget."

"How many do you have left?" O'Haire tilted his head.

"Thirteen."

"Lucky for some..." The sergeant took a deep breath in and closed his eyes. "You've got to ration them, you know."

"You sound like my mother..." Laughing to himself, Jason smirked at his good friend.

"I may as well be," O'Haire retorted, shaking his head in disappointment, "doing it out there won't bring you any good. If you're caught doing it again, they'll probably kick you out."

"I know..." Stevenson looked down, his posture arching.

"But, if you feel you really need to, then I can't stop you Sir. You're your own person, and I can't do anything to alter that." The Irishman grinned.

"Thank you, Seamus." The captain leaned back onto the floor, staring up at the ceiling again; the same, boring white ceiling that he's stared at before. It became more and more familiar, as if he's seen it every day.

"I'll take my leave then, Sir. Goodnight." O'Haire pushed himself off the floor and stood up.

"Seamus."

"Yes Sir?" The radio operator was about to open the front door, his hand wrapped around the handle.

"Line up at 0830 outside tomorrow morning. Let the lads know too. Lessons start at 0900."

"Very good, Captain," throwing up a short salute, the radio operator left the Scot to himself. Stevenson stayed staring at the ceiling, thinking over what O'Haire had talked about.

"Seems all too confusing to me..." Stevenson sighed, rolling over onto his stomach. His eyes landed on the one unopened suitcase he hadn't checked yet. He reached out to it and grabbed some of the sturdy fabric, fumbling for the zip. After opening it up, the same totally confused look on his face returned. A matte black box with what seemed like a couple of buttons running alongside it sat in the suitcase, along with a screen much similar to the TV that resided a couple meters away. "Let's leave that for another day..." Stevenson zipped up the confusing piece of technology and sat on his backside, staring at the pastel blue wall.

...

"I'm still not tired..."

* * *

"I'm in room 1-C, so is Hitch. That's the first floor, isn't it?" Samson looked at the timetable that was given to him. Hitch nodded, his eyes half-lidded and dark circles under them.

"I'm on the top floor, 3-A, and the sergeant is on the second floor in 2-C." Stevenson held his hands on his hips, looking over the two younger crew members.

"So... I'm 15, and Hitch is 16? The sergeant is 16 as well, but that's because his birthday is later in the year. And you, Sir, are 18. Wow, you still are old."

"Remember, corporal. I'm still your captain. I'm not your playground mate." Stevenson looked down at the brown-haired boy.

"Sorry Sir." Samson stood to attention and saluted. A couple of girlish giggles were heard behind them, causing Samson to shoot a glare at the girls laughing at him. Shaking his head, Stevenson looked towards where O'Haire disappeared to.

"Did he tell you boys anything before he left?" Stevenson stuffed his timetable into his trouser pocket. All three boys were wearing their new school uniforms; black trousers, black shoes, black tie, white shirt and a navy blue sweater that looked much like the ones given to the Royal Air Force. The three boys were standing at their lockers, which where at the front of the school, sometimes receiving strange or entranced looks by the girls passing them. "I swear we're cursed being surrounded by all these girls."

"Hey, look, its the other boys. Why don't we introduce ourselves?" Samson suggested, smiling at his captain.

"No. Something is telling me we should avoid any contact with them." Stevenson's eyes grew darker and a heavy sense of seriousness covered his stoic posture. Hitch and Samson looked worriedly on at the group of six boys travelling down the hallway. Samson opened his mouth to ask why but Hitch stopped him, shaking his head no. Crossing his burly arms over his chest, Jason glared at the boys. It was clear that they were intimidated by the captain; because they seemed to speed up away from his deadly stare. His eyes bored into the back of their skulls, watching them leave.

"Good morning, Jason." A familiar blonde approached the captain, pulling him out of his murderous glare and replacing it with a kind, gentle smile.

"Good morning, Darjeeling. Can I help you?"

"Well, I believe we're in the same class. Shall we walk up there now?" Darjeeling smiled at him, a soft look in her sea-blue eyes. Stevenson took one look behind him and saw Hitch and Samson, a look of disbelief on their faces.

"S-sure, one moment please," the captain smiled at her and spun around to the two shocked boys. "I don't want to hear a word out of you two about anything inappropriate at practice later. If O'Haire comes back, tell him I said thank you."

"Thank you for what?" Samson asked, but Stevenson was already walking away with the fair-haired goddess. Both scratching their heads in confusion, the gunner and the driver shrugged. Off they both went to their first class in a Japanese school.

"So what did you think of your apartment?" Darjeeling walked beside Jason, maybe a little too close for comfort.

"Apartment? Oh, right, yes. Yeah, it's cozy. Thank you for sorting those out for us, it's mustn't have been simple."

"Well, we received the money to pay for them from your families, all we needed to do was find a place to put you four. A house was suggested for you, since you boys all grew up together anyway, but it seems you turned it down. May I ask why?"

"We had a vote, actually. I asked them which they preferred and they chose the separate flats."

"Ah, a democratic vote. One of the more fair forms of decision-making. However one can argue that it's the least." Darjeeling stopped walking as they reached a door wit ha sign saying 'Classroom 3-A' above it. "Come on in, you sit over there." She pointed at a desk sat at the front on the far left side. "Actually, I must let you know that you're the only boy who is in the third year. So this class you'll be in for a year will only ever have girls in it, other than yourself, of course." Darjeeling's smile seemed to glow, breaking through Stevenson's solid steel defenses bit by bit.

"I'm right at the front?" Stevenson let out a long sigh, sadly looking at the desk he'll be spending every lesson at.

"Yes, is there a problem with it? If so, I can ask sensei-"

"Nope, it's alright. I'll stick with it." Stevenson walked over to it, passing two girls deep in conversation about how one of them has just been allowed to command a Matilda Mark III. Darjeeling walked up to the front of the class and placed a few pieces of paper on the teacher's desk, then turning back and sitting down to the right of Stevenson.

"I hope you don't mind me sitting here?" Before she got any of her things out, she wanted to make sure she wasn't being too attached to him.

"Oh, of course not. It'd make it easier to ask you questions than if you were across the room." Stevenson laughed to himself, catching the attention of the two girls behind them. They both turned back and talked in a hushed tone, stealing quick glances at the tall, stoic foreigner that sat at the front of the class. A minute ticked by and the rest of the students came into the classroom, taking their places in their allotted desks. The teacher walked in and introduced herself. Darjeeling, the class representative, asked the class to rise. Stevenson awkwardly stood up with the rest of the girls and bowed, then sat back down. The class began, with the teacher passing out some laptops for the students whose parents had paid for them. Staring at the black cuboid on his desk, the captain struggled to comprehend the theory that he once knew what a laptop is. Darjeeling saw this as an opportunity to interact with him.

"Are you alright?" she asked, leaning slightly towards him.

"Aye, just perfect..." He opened the lid and pressed the same button he saw the class-rep press. His eyes widened in astonishment as the black screen burned white and a logo appeared. He heard a few girls whispering behind him, obviously about him and his way of speaking. Stevenson watched Darjeeling look behind her right shoulder, then a second later the whispers stopped. He then made a mental note that Darjeeling holds a lot of influence over the other students. The Scot closed the lid of the laptop and put it into his bag, then taking out a fountain pen and a notebook of A4 paper. "I'll stick to pen and paper for now." Darjeeling nodded, impressed with him choosing the slower and less efficient way to write things down over the laptop. Darjeeling owned a laptop, but preferred to write down her working and her notes; she believed it helped her remember things better.

"Oh, Jason before I forget, can you go to the student council room at lunch please?" The class-rep asked, twirling her pen around her fingers.

"Yeah, sure. what for? I thought everything was sorted yesterday?" Stevenson looked over at the girl beside him.

"No, and yes. This is more for Sensha-do, actually. It's about your uniforms."

"You've made some already?"

"No, not yet. We would like to hear your opinions on them. I think you may have already seen the red jackets, haven't you?"

Stevenson nodded, smiling very slightly. "Aye, I have. They're not that bad."

"Alright, you won't have to wear one if you don't want to. However the other three have already been given their uniforms."

"How come I haven't been given one?"

"I'll go into more detail later. Right now, however, lets focus on the lesson, hm?"


	3. 3

**Sorry to interrupt your reading, but I'd like to remind you that this is an M Rated story! This chapter contains some stuff!**

**Once again, I'm sorry to interrupt your reading, and I hope you enjoy this chapter!**

* * *

_A house. Green fields. Small farm. Jason's home. _

_"Boy, turn that up." Robert Carlisle, Jason's father, ordered him to turn up the radio. Jason sighed, reluctantly turning the dial, being able to hear the announcer state something even louder now. What he was talking about, Jason didn't care. He had other things on his mind._

_"I'm going out." Jason walked to the door with a medium-sized bag, clutching the door handle._

_"Alright." Robert continued listening to the radio. Jason scrunched up his face, he hated his father with a bloody passion. Actually, hate is too kind. Detested is probably more fitting. Jason detested his father's guts, all he hoped for was that he would just die already and he could inherit all the money. At times, he was tempted to commit patricide, but pushed the sinful thoughts away. Jason left the house and closed the door behind him.  
Robert didn't see Jason as a son, just someone that fed off his hard-earned wages like a leech. Jason didn't want to think of his father as someone who could marry someone like his mother. _

_His mother... soft, kind, gentle. His mother was an angel. She was pure at heart and didn't want anything but a good life for her son. She cared for him and looked after him. Often, his parents would be heard arguing over things, useless, trivial things. Sometimes Jason would see bruises on her a day after an argument, but he was too scared to stand up for his own mother. One day, he told himself, one day he'd be able to pay back for what his father had done to his family. Jason has once stood up to his father, but he was too small to do any real damage. As punishment, he was beaten and thrown outside for two days. He wanted to get back at his father even after that. Picking up knives when his father's back was turned but ultimately putting it back down, or heaving up a hammer over his head when he would be forced to help his father with the small farm behind the house. Jason never acted on his temptations, but almost let his desires run loose on multiple occasions. All he wanted was justice for his mother._

_Jason's plan now was to escape to the army. A soldier without a family might as well be a soldier ripe for fodder. That's what he thought. He had no friends too, none of the other boys when he was still at school wanted to be his friend. To them, he was just the poor farm boy. To them, he was a soulless body._

_Jason joined the army in 1924, lying about him not being 16 but actually 18, and was barely able to get away with it. He claimed his last name was Stevenson, which was his mothers last name. He didn't want to keep being associated with his father whenever he was named. He joined the 12th Scottish Rifleman's Regiment after a year of training, then after five years in the infantry, he joined the Royal Tank Corps in 1930. Four years deep in the Tank Corps, he heard on the radio that Adolf Hitler had become Fuhrer of Germany and its colonies. Jason quickly realised that after numerous radio broadcasts and newspapers in the following months of Hitler's rise to Fuhrer, Britain was building alliances if worst case scenario's did happen._

_Rising through the ranks, Jason Montgomery Stevenson was eventually promoted to Warrant Officer in 1938 and was given the role of commander for a brand new tank introduced by the DOTD and Vickers, the Cruiser A13 infantry tank._

_His crew consisted of three other members. Two young men, claiming both to be 18, childhood best friends. both privates. The last member made Stevenson a little anxious, an Irishman. 22 years old. He hoped that all four of them could get on with each other. _

_All three introduced themselves as Private Charles Samson, Private Douglas Hitch and Corporal Seamus O'Haire._

_After numerous successes on the battlefield, Jason was promoted to Captain in 1940. Samson and Hitch were promoted to Corporal and O'Haire became a Sergeant. And thus they began their journey across Europe and North Africa. _

_Africa. 1941 Crusader A15_

_France. 1944 Sherman M4A4 VC "Firefly"_

_Germany. 1945 Sherman M4A4 VC "Firefly"_

_And now, Japan. 20XX_

* * *

"Wait for them to pass. We're waiting for bigger prey." Jason watched an armoured Russian convoy of four T-34's and one KV-1 pass their hiding spot. Covered in white-painted foliage and camo-netting, the firefly '_Ginny_' lay in wait for larger enemies. Jason knew there was an IS-2 and a KV-2 in the roster of Pravda, so he and his crew lay in wait. "Sergeant, do you mind letting Darjeeling know that there are four T-34/57's and a KV-1 headed south from point..." Stevenson looked down at his map to check, "0127."

"Aye, Sir." O'Haire nodded and tuned in the radio to the correct frequency, pulling the receiver towards him and putting on the headset. The sergeant spoke into the radio and awaited a reply.

"Copy that, _Ginny, _we'll keep an eye out. Good hunting." Darjeeling's radio operator ended the transmission.

"It's getting bloody cold in here without the engine running." Samson bounced his knee, keeping his eye trained down the scope of the 17 pounder gun.

"Just wait, corporal. If what Rosehip had said had any truth, the fat bastards should be coming down here soon." Jason craned his neck so he could see out of his cupola, turning the periscope for a more thorough check along the road. "I see exhausts, coming our way, make sure you hit the IS first, the KV traverse speed is slow so it should give O'Haire enough time to hammer in another shell." Stevenson watched as there were three sets of fumes travelling up the road. "Three targets. Lead is the IS, back two are 85s. Adjust for 20." Samson carefully hand cranked the turret 20 degrees to the right, setting the sights on the flat side-armour of the IS-2.

"Fire." Jason emotionlessly ordered, followed by a loud bang vibrating in the turret as smoke escaped from the gun breach. The IS-2 was efficiently taken out in one shot from the 17 pounder gun. A small white flag popped out of its turret to indicate it had been killed. The two T-34/85's reacted by turning towards the direction of the shot, not being able to see the killer. Samson adjusted the barrel to aim at the first T-34/85 and waited for the order. O'Haire punched the next armour piercing shell into the breach.

"Up!" shouted O'Haire over the ignition of the engine and the initial coughing of the exhaust pipe.

"Fire." Jason stared through his periscope at the two Russian mediums, looking like they were panicking now. Samson squeezed the trigger, the shell gracefully flew one hundred meters through the air and landed directly into the turret-ring of the first T-34. In reaction, the last T-34 traversed the turret and fired at where they saw the flash of the muzzle. The shell whizzed past the Firefly and crashed into a neighbouring tree, sending splinters and branches deep into the dark woods. O'Haire loaded the breach again.

"Up!"

"Fire."

All three Pravda tanks were out, three pretty white flags flapped in the cold wind. None of the Russian tanks were able to hit the Sherman or even see where it actually was.

"Hitch, get us out of here." Stevenson ordered through the internal radio, Hitch pulled the Firefly out of the foliage and turned towards the forest. Stevenson popped open his hatch and stood in the open cupola. "Good shooting, Corporal."

"Thank you Captain." Samson leaned his shoulder into the turret, feeling the uncomfortable vibrations and bumps of the Firefly and the terrain they were travelling over. O'Haire loaded the next shell, feeling proud of how quickly he managed to load the awkward 17-pounder shells. He often used to practice loading with fake shells when at HQ or a Forward Operating Base, as well as focus mainly on arm exercises so he could maximise the firing rate of the Firefly. The forest itself was coated in a thick blanket of pure white snow, but even with the snow it was still incredibly dark around them. Hitch turned on the headlight, only highlighting a few meters ahead of him. He kept the Firefly moving slow, just in case of any dangerous changes in the terrain.

The Firefly had customised treads on for the snow. Since St Gloriana wanted the tank as a specified 'big-game hunter' it was kitted out with white foliage camo-netting and snow tracks that were bought from Saunders to allow it to traverse the thick snowy environment in which their second match was being played in.

"_Ginny_, any updates?" asked the Churchill's radio operator, a sense of urgency in her voice as she spoke. O'Haire pulled up the receiver and spoke into it.

"Aye, we successfully took down one IS-2 and two T-34/85s. We're still on the hunt for the KV-2." O'Haire looked up at his commander, who was looking down at him from the cupola.

"Splendid, Darjeeling sends her gratitude. We're setting up for a rendezvous at grid 12, can you make it?" The radio fizzled a moment after she stopped talking.

"Hitch, you remember that big opening in the forest we found earlier?" Jason spoke into his radio that connected all four crew members in the tank.

"Yes Sir, are we going there then?" Hitch replied quickly, shifting gears as he nearly struck down a tree.

"We're going past it and around the hill, we're rendezvousing with the main force."

"Very good Sir, I'll get us there no problem." Hitch switched into a higher gear as there was a clear strait for the Firefly to drive down.

"We'll be there," stated the Irishman, leaning into his seat.

"If you arrive before us, dig in. Don't get seen, but if you do, get out of there. That's an order from the Commander herself," claimed the radio-operator.

"Alright, heard you loud and clear. Run if we get seen," O'Haire repeated, ending the transmission. Hitch bounced the tank around a large tree, barely missing it as they passed. He sped up the Firefly even more, loving the roar of the brand new engine that was placed in it. Most of the tanks that are used in Sensha-do are given stronger engines and drivetrains to fight the risks of breakdowns and fires. The Firefly didn't have this problem from when this crew used it as they never pushed the limits, however from the gorgeous sounds erupting from the exhaust it was hard to not love the new speeds it could get up to.

"Careful, Corporal. We don't want to buggar this up for St Gloriana if we crash. We're here to win, not get knocked out because the driver got too carried away."

"Sorry Sir." Hitch pulled the Firefly down two gears, leaving it at a faster pace than a cruise.

"It's alright, I'll let you play around with it back on the ship if we win this."

"Thank you Sir." Driving up a slight incline, the tank approached the hill. A road was barely visible at the bottom of the hill. Hitch stayed off the road and drove alongside it; although more bumpy and painful, it was harder for them to be tracked if any pesky Russians were to go down the same road. The Firefly reached the rendezvous point, with no friendly forces in sight. Jason sighed and looked around from his commander's hatch, chewing the inside of his cheek from nervousness. Where they were was a T-Junction that sat as a separation between the hill and the dense forest. _Ginny _came from the left, from the right they were expecting the main force. From the 90, Jason knew nothing about where it lead to, so he hoped Darjeeling did. Seeing a battle-scarred Churchill and five Matilda's quickly driving down their road, Hitch began turning the hull of the Sherman.

"_Ginny_, slot in between us and Rukuriri's Matilda." Darjeeling's radio-operator's voice echoed through O'Haire as he was leaning into the radio.

"Righto, Hitch, get between Darjeeling and the Matilda." Jason waved at Darjeeling and the commander of the Matilda behind her, Rukuriri. The Firefly slid in to the column seamlessly, like they had practiced it for hours beforehand. "Commander, what's the plan?"

"Currently, we're working on a plan right now. Rosehip and her wingman are currently being chased by their whole force, or what we think is their whole force because we haven't found the flag tank yet." Within Sensha-do, there are two gamemodes: Elimination, where all enemy tanks need to be taken out in order for the game to be won, and Flag tank protection, where one tank on each team is to be designated a blue flag to show who is essentially the VIP. First team to knock out the enemies flag tank, wins. In this game, St Gloriana's flag tank was Darjeeling's Churchill . "Rosehip is bringing them to a place where we can ambush them, which is right down this road." Ahead of the column, there lay a crossroads, deep in the forest.

"Where would you like us, Commander?" Questioned Jason, not sure how a long-range weapon can work in a close-range situation like that.

"You and two of the Matilda's will watch our rears whilst we commence the ambush. I'm fairly certain that Pravda would have split their group. The commanders of those Matilda's have been told to treat the Firefly as if it were a flag tank, so you will be given an added set of protection when you come in contact with the enemy. We are relying on your gun to take out the enemies we struggle with. If we need your assistance on the front, we'll require you to switch over." Darjeeling's voice was calm and controlled, sometimes pausing after every sentence probably to drink her tea. Jason then realised he also had a boiling vessel in the back of the tank, too. He could do with a cuppa.

"Much appreciated, Darjeeling. My crew won't let you down."

The column stopped at the crossroads. Darjeeling and the last two Matilda's set up on the cross-section of the road. Jason and the supporting Matilda's set up off the road several meters back.

"Darjeeling! We're coming in hot!" Rosehip yelled through the radio, much to the discomfort of all the commanders listening. Quickly, two crusaders came barreling through the snow towards the Churchill and the two Matilda's, kicking up an effective smokescreen for their chasers. Rosehip and her wingman split to both sides and hid behind the heavier armour. Four clueless T-34/57s ran directly into the five British guns waiting for them, one being knocked out straight away by the Churchill, another got its tracks blown off and the remaining two regretted chasing the speedsters so closely. The official firefight began, as the Firefly and it's Matilda support started firing upon one T-34/76 - which happened to be the flag tank - and a KV-1. The Firefly dug itself behind a mound, only showing its turret to the Russian tanks. After direct-hitting the front armour of the KV-1, a white flag sprouted from its turret. Samson exposed a toothy grin as his kill count increased bit by bit.

Out of nowhere, a great force of wind pushed through down the road. An explosion erupted out of the bank at the T-junction, snow and mud landing multiple meters away from the impact zone.

"That'll be the KV-2 then." Samson said calmly, as if he didn't just see the destructive power of the 152mm howitzer.

"Hitch, face us towards the heavy armour, the Matilda's can deal with the flag tank."

"Yes Sir." Hitch quickly pulled the Sherman out from behind the mound and spun it in the general direction of the crossroad. Samson began aiming towards the KV-2 between the trees. Noticing the red star through the trees, Samson zeroed his sights on it, knowing it was an easy target for the Firefly.

"Fire when ready, Corporal." Jason watched through his periscope at the battle going on between St Gloriana and the two T-34s that were joined with by the KV-2. Samson took a deep breath in, focusing on the target set under his sights. He squeezed the trigger, causing the Firefly to shake as the cannon chucked the 76mm shell out of its barrel. The shell flew through the air, cleanly passing trees, branches and foliage. It dug deep into the turret of the KV-2, a white flag promptly popping up. "Nice shot, Samson."

"Cheers, Captain." Samson turned the turret towards the next two targets, only being stopped by a loud horn.

**"St Gloriana wins the match! Pravda's flag tank has been knocked out!" **

Loud cheers could be heard from the radios, all of girls congratulating each other on the work they had done.

"Get us over to Darjeeling, Corporal." Jason popped his hatch and stood in it, watching the Russian tank crews looking very upset and angry. One crew did catch his eye. The crew of the KV-1 that they knocked out consisted purely of boys, and they all seemed to be speaking in Russian, instead of what should have been Japanese. This piqued Jason's interest, making a mental note to go and see them after they returned to the harbour.

"Good job, _Ginny_. You've nicely shown St Gloriana and the whole of Japan how good you are at tankery. We'll be sure to give you our gratitude professionally when we are back on the ship." Darjeeling waved at Jason, a warm smile grew on her lips. Jason quickly saluted at her with a wide smirk. Hitch pulled the Firefly up next to the Churchill, stopping it on the road.

"It was our pleasure, Commander. However we couldn't have done it without you as our CO." Jason bowed his head slightly, a sly grin now on his face. Darjeeling just chuckled and shook her head.

"Thank you, we'll be sure to utilise your 17-pounder next game. For now, I think we'll be investing in some better tanks for next game." Darjeeling looked at a knocked out Matilda and Crusader, sighing softly in the cold wind. "Everyone, let's head back."

* * *

Jason sat in his living room, cross legged, staring at the suitcase he put away for a later time. He had a radio in his room, sprouting 1940s jazz. Silently enjoying the music, he still wasn't used to the new music that he'd hear every now and again around the school and the town. Although Jason did like his jazz, he also thoroughly enjoyed listening to Frank Sinatra's swing, too. He decided today was the day he'd tackle the 'computer' that has been sitting in the suitcase for over two months now. Unzipping the bag and lifting up the lid, he looked in at the metal box and the clean blank screen. A long, exasperated sigh escaped Jason's nose as he pulled out all of the components and the cables to begin setting up the metal contraption.

From sheer luck and sticking things in places that looked like they would fit, he finally managed to turn on both the monitor and the computer whilst they were connected after about two hours. Feeling proud with himself, he smiled at his ingenuity and ability to quickly adapt to the situation - Or rather he was glad he could figure out something as simple as plugging in a PC and pressing the 'on' button. A prompt came up on the screen, asking him to update his system. Squinting at the message at the bottom right of his screen, he struggled to understand what it meant. He thought about asking the gunner over to help him, but if he did he'd get teased with 'old man' for a while afterwards. However, he knew Samson wasn't home at the moment, he was out job hunting for some reason (that's what he told his captain anyway). Shrugging off the off-topic thoughts, Jason clicked on 'yes'. The screen changed and the screen went blue with a loading circle in the middle of it. A percentage popped up underneath it and a message saying "please wait, updating your system, do not turn off your PC". Jason placed his elbows on the desk and put his head in his hands, watching the circle turn.

Many minutes passed whilst he waited, the number on the screen barely going up by 5%.

"Well this is a tad tiring. I best do something whilst I wait..." Jason looked around his room, seeing some books stacked in the corner, some un-ironed clothes that really needed to be ironed and his phone resting on the kitchen counter. Could he be bothered to stand up and get his phone? No. Did he force himself to get up? Yes. Was it worth it? No. Why? No notifications even though he wasn't expecting any in the first place. Did this surprise him? Definitely not. Did he want to stop asking himself questions and answering them himself? Yes.

Jason sat on his office chair with his phone in his hand, twirling around in his immense boredom. After going too quick, he lost his balance. A short 'o shite' followed by a loud thud saw Jason laying on the floor, in a daze.

"For fucks sake, ya stupid bastard. Why'd you do that then?" Jason sat up, rubbing his left shoulder with his right hand. He shook his head and put the chair back on its wheels. Before sitting back down, he took a quick glance out of his window, seeing the bright sun shining on the rows of houses and trees in the distance. From the sheer size of the ship, there was effectively no feeling of rocking so anyone with seasickness would have been fine on it. A short recession of buzzes sounded off of his desk. He investigated and saw that he had received a 'text message' from the Sergeant. He picked it up in both hands and unlocked the screen, reading the messages.

_**Sergeant S.O'Haire:** Are you busy at the moment Captain?_

**_Captain J._**_**:** No, I'm not. Is there something you need?  
__Sincerely, Captain Jason Stevenson.  
_

_**Sergeant S.O'Haire:** Brilliant. Can you come down to the hangars? St Gloriana just received a new shipment of tanks for the next opponent. Also, you don't have to sign the texts you know?_

**_Captain J._**_**:** Duly noted, I'll take that into consideration, thank you. I'll be at the school ASAP. Is Darjeeling and her crew there too?  
__Sincerely, Captain Jason Stevenson.__  
_

_**Sergeant S.O'Haire:** Yes, they are. Darjeeling said she expected you to be here before your crew, not the other way around_

Jason cursed himself internally for being so oblivious to Darjeeling's orders the other day to be at the hangar to receive the new tanks with her.

_**Captain J. :** Tell her I apologise and I'll be there within half an hour.  
__Sincerely, Captain Jason Stevenson._

_**Sergeant S.O'Haire:** Very good Sir, we'll see you there then_

Jason closed his phone and placed it back down on the desk. It was early Sunday, about eight o'clock, so he didn't dress like it was a school day. In only a pair of pajama trousers and a white t-shirt, Jason reluctantly stood up from the chair and walked toward his wardrobe. Jason woefully changed into his school uniform, making sure that every part was of good condition so show that he was tidy and orderly at home as well as at school. Pulling on his tank jacket as well, Jason put his hands in a pair of leather driving gloves. The Captain stuffed his phone in his school trouser pocket and hurriedly ran out the door, locking it behind him. Coming close to tripping at least five times, Jason jogged to the school gate. He walked through and picked up the pace towards the tank hangars. Ahead of him, he saw Darjeeling, patiently waiting beside a large metal container with Orange Pekoe and Assam next to her. Seamus, Charles and Douglas were standing opposite to the girls, talking to them. Jason shot up a hand and started waving at them as he got closer. Darjeeling noticed and gave a little wave back, a smile now appearing on her lips.

"I'm sorry I'm late. I misunderstood what you asked the other day." Jason scratched his brow in embarrassment, chewing the inside of his cheek.

"It's alright, we waited for you because I would like your opinion on it." Darjeeling motioned to Assam, the latter taking the hint and pulling a pair of bolt cutters out of literally nowhere. Assam moved towards the container lock and cut it open. Seamus and Douglas moved towards the metal doors, unbolting and opening them. Seamus, Douglas, Charles, Orange Pekoe and Assam all peered into the large metal container, their mouths dropping in awe.

"A Comet? I'm impressed. Have you got more tanks on the way?" Jason pulled his fingers through his short red hair. Darjeeling nodded and held her hands together behind her back.

"Another A34 Comet and an A43 Black Prince, which I will be personally commanding, to replace the Churchill VII." Darjeeling stepped closer to the cruiser tank, looking along it.

"All I knew of the A43 was that it was on blueprints. How'd you manage to get it?"

"Well, in Bovington, England, they held it in the tank museum. We asked if we could use it in Sensha-do about two years ago. They upgraded it for us since it was unfit for Sensha-do. It's arriving tomorrow, during school." Darjeeling pulled some keys out her shirt pocket and gave it to Douglas. For a second, he had to register what was happening and looked to his Captain for help.

"Go on, Doug." Jason nodded at his driver, now receiving the keys and bouncing up onto the hull, opening the hatch and jumping in. Douglas started up the engine, grinning as it roared to life, the sound only being enhanced by the metal container the Comet was in.

"The three new tanks should be able to keep up with the Firefly's firepower. We couldn't let you take all the glory, could we?" Darjeeling lips turned into a larger smile, aimed at the Scot. Not being able to fight the urge anymore, he let a smile break out, too.

"So who's taking the A34's? These are later tanks, so you can't get that much better than this." Jason looked to his crew. "Hitler was about to surrender anyway, they might as well be late war tanks." Darjeeling frowned at the man standing beside her. He spoke like the end of the war hadn't happened yet. She decided not to ask questions and perhaps leave them for a later date. At the moment, she was more concentrated on the London boy having fun in the new cruiser tank.

"Rukuriri will command one, to replace her Matilda. Nilgiri will be taking the other one to replace her Cromwell. We'll be setting aside the Matilda's first. When we manage to gain a bit more money, I'm hoping to get another A22F Churchill VII, an A30 Challenger and also an A39 Tortoise." Darjeeling watched as Douglas drove the Comet into its designated hangar, hangar 3. A minute later he came back, twirling the keys on his finger with a wide smile on his face.

"I thank you for letting me drive it, Darjeeling." Douglas bowed and handed her the keys. The blonde girl just smiled and nodded.

"It's no problem, however you're the only driver here so I decided it'd be best to have you move it." Darjeeling pocketed the keys, turning towards Jason now. "If you want to have a look at the tank, or work on the Firefly, be my guest. I've got paperwork to be doing." Darjeeling looked at the two girls standing behind her, and started walking towards the school. Jason stood there in thought for a moment, then caught up with Darjeeling.

"I can help you with it, if you like." Jason stuffed his hands in his pockets as he walked beside her.

"I would appreciate that, thank you." Darjeeling's face lit up, glad that not only will she be on her own doing the heaps of paperwork, but also that it was Jason that offered to help her first.

Douglas, Seamus and Charles all watched their Captain walk off without them, not telling them if they should do anything. They were completely clueless about what to do now. Did they go back home? Did they fix-up the Firefly? Seamus pulled his phone out of his pocket and texted Jason, asking what they should do now.

"Should we just clean _Ginny_?" Suggested Charles, putting his hands in his trouser pockets.

"Why not? I don't see anything wrong with that." Seamus smiled, nodding slowly. "Ah, actually. We don't know where to get all the stuff to clean it. Leave it for tomorrow after school."

"That makes sense." Charles tutted and started walking away. "I'm going back home."

"Hey, hey, shouldn't we wait for the Captain to give us his orders? Boys! Charlie! Douglas!" Seamus stood in front of hangar five, where the Firefly was stored. Douglas and Charles were already walking away together, chatting. Not caring about what their sergeant had told them, they headed straight for their flats. "Ah for feck's sake, I'll just wait here then." Seamus crossed his arms and leaned against the door. He fished his phone out of his pocket when he felt it vibrate. He looked at the screen and saw that there was a message from Jason.

_**Captain J. :** Seamus, I don't have anything just yet, go back for now. Thank you.  
__ Sincerely, Captain Jason Stevenson_

_**Sergeant S.O'Haire:** Yes Sir, see you later then._

Seamus sighed, massaging the back of his neck. He put his phone back in his pocket and started walking towards the gate. As he was leaving the school, he noticed a girl struggling with a heap of books. Quickly walking over to her, he helped her pick up some dropped papers and books.

"I-I can do it myself you know?" The girl was quite brash, and snatched the books away. A visible pink shade had grown on her cheeks when she looked away from him. "I don't need a boy to help me, anyway."

"Mm, I could see. But I thought I might as well help you." Seamus kept calm, he knew that these girls don't really know how to interact with boys by Darjeeling. However, he thought that trying to be nice to them would work. Obviously for this girl, it wouldn't work. She was about a foot smaller than him, the top of her head reached his chin. She had long, wavy brown hair and her face was soft, but her expression was hard. Seamus knew this one was going to be difficult to talk to.

"Well I didn't need your help," The girl flicked her hair and carried on along her path.

"You're welcome." Seamus smirked, seeing the girl tense up and turn back to him. She looked up at him, her face scrunched up in a frown. A flustered frown.

"Thanks... idiot," the frown softened, only by a bit. The intention in the way she spoke wasn't to hurt him, or it was intended to but it didn't hurt him anyway. Seamus just chuckled and smiled at the girl.

"I'm Seamus, what's your name?"

"Peppermint Patty, but my friends call me Patty." The brunette adjusted the books so it could sit a little more comfortably. Seamus realised it was quickly becoming too much for her.

"Pretty name, can I help you with those?" The Irishman offered, slowly reaching out a hand.

"Nope, I'll be fine thanks. I haven't got far to go. I'm just going to my dorms anyway." The girl set off again, with Seamus groaning and shaking his head. There was no way he'd be able to make her reconsider at this point. He thought he'd best leave it until another day. Whilst he was walking back, she shot a glance at him. He seemed a lot more masculine than the other boys that came a few months ago. He was taller, built larger and there was an unimaginable amount of calmness to him. It was strange, because she was scared that she was getting interested in someone she had just met.

* * *

"Alright lads, over the week I want you all to focus on making yourselves presentable. Presentation is paramount and I will have no 'ifs' or 'buts'. Why? Because I said so. St Gloriana is being inspected by the Sensha-do board. They have been checking all male crews and students to see if they are good enough for the schools and tankery in and of itself. You will not make a fool of yourselves at all. However this does not mean you can when we aren't being monitored. Do I make myself perfectly bloody clear lads?" Jason was standing on top of his mattress in his room, with Seamus, Doug, and Charlie sitting cross-legged in front of him. They all shot up a strong salute to him and shouted in unison.

"Sir, yes, Sir!"

"Bloody marvelous! Now, I want you all to shine your shoes, iron your shirts and fix yourselves up before the school week begins. Now buggar off." Jason stepped down off of his mattress, letting the three boys below him stand up and give him another salute.

Jason spent the next week making sure his crew were in line during school and St Gloriana's practice sessions for the upcoming match. The match would be fought against the infamous Kuromorimine Girl's Academy, which are ruthless, highly efficient tacticians that have been on many winning streaks in Sensha-do. The previous tournament was won by the recently re-instated Oorai Girl's Academy, winning against Kuromorimine. They'd be a difficult opponent if St Gloriana won against Kuromorimine. The shipment of new tanks were brought in, and the line-up consists of 15 tanks for the semi-finals: One A43 Black Prince, commanded by St Gloriana's overall commander Darjeeling. Three A34 Comet I's, One Sherman VC 'Firefly' commanded by Captain Jason Stevenson (recently promoted to second-in-command of St Gloriana's Sensha-do team), One A22F Churchill Mk. VII, One A30 Challenger and an A39 Tortoise. Also, there are four A27M Cromwells and three M5 Stuart 'Desert Rats' as designated light reconnaissance and scouting units.

The week dragged on, it was unbearably slow for Jason. He was looking forward to chewing and spitting out Panthers and Tigers with the tank designed to counter the Big Cats of the Wehrmacht. However, he wasn't hyping himself up just yet. This is because he planned himself a calm, relaxed weekend before the match began, giving him a chance to think about strategies and tactics he could use against Kuromorimine. If what Darjeeling had told him held some truths, then Kuromorimine don't have the ability to react to new situations and cannot adapt quickly. This gives scout and recon vehicles the chance to mess with tanks that lag behind, are separated from the main force or big enough to irritate and take out with smaller, much faster tanks. If St Gloriana can distort their communication and cause a confusion, then victory is assured. In the previous year, they were shot down one-by-one because of a ranged disadvantage. Now that 7 of St Gloriana's tanks are equipped with 17-pounder cannons, it won't be so difficult to fight back. Their last match (The 63rd Sensha-do Tournament) ended in a duel between Darjeeling's A22F Churchill and Kuromorimine's overall commander's Tiger I. Maho, the overall commander won in this duel, which allowed them to go into the finals against Oorai. As Oorai have no specified style, it's like they base their tactics off what is happening around them rather than a pre-made strategy. This can prove difficult for St Gloriana as they work in formations and well-executed actions with professionally stated communications.

Jason held his head high, certain that the match against Kuromorimine will go exactly as planned and they will go into the finals. He hoped that Kuromorimine hasn't got any hidden tactics that he might have to send Hitch in to investigate. The reason for this, is because he often had to apologise for Douglas listening in to conversations he shouldn't hear. Also, he sometimes boasted about stealing documents from the higher-ups to Charles and some other privates and corporals. Douglas didn't last very long when Jason would hear him talking about crimes that are worth a court-martial. Covering up for a juvenile crew was what Jason seemed to be known for within their battalion. Douglas stuck his nose in places it should never have even considered being in, Charles didn't always listen to orders and only listened to Commanding Officers if it was completely serious. Seamus, on the other hand, only got into trouble once: an arrogant SS Officer got cocky and crossed the line. He said things about the Irish, and Seamus didn't stand for it. Seconds later, the German was being rushed to a field hospital after Seamus broke three of his ribs, both legs, his left arm and dislocated his jaw. Seamus used his overwhelming strength within his smaller stature to push away the two soldiers escorting the German and fight off three others when they ran over to help. Seamus is a true patriot for his country. Although he doesn't hate the English, he doesn't agree with the things they've done. The sergeant didn't apologise for the outburst, which Jason understood and said that he probably would have done the same if he were in his position. Jason helped his friend escape jail time, and it strengthened their bond even further.

Sunday evening was spent sitting outside on the stairs to the complex, smoking one of his few cigarettes he had left. His gaze was set on the bright, glistening crystals that lay on the pitch black sky. Slowly taking in everything around him, Jason sighed deeply. He leaned back on his free hand, placing the cigarette between his lips with the other.

"You're going to get caught one day, you know that?" A familiar blonde commander was standing at the bottom of the stairs, clutching a blue folder in her arms.

"I won't, don't worry." Jason smirked at her, feeling smug and kind of confident now that she appeared. Darjeeling shook her head and walked up the steps, then softly placed herself down next to Jason. "You come here to see me?"

"I couldn't relax this weekend, I also anticipated a sleepless night tonight if I didn't go and see you." Darjeeling put the folder in her lap and turned her gaze towards the captain. Taking a long drag from the cigarette, he gave her a side glance. He didn't know whether he should be flustered or concerned that she wanted to see him.

"Why's that then?" He leaned back and looked at her.

"I'm worried about the match next week. I knew I couldn't go to the girls with this because I'd just spread the worry onto them too." Darjeeling, a downcast look on her face, refused to land her gaze onto the boy sitting next to her.

"You're the one that's concerned. Nah, you shouldn't be. Maho Nishizumi should be. She doesn't know our lineup and is probably expecting another win." Jason put the cigarette between his lips again.

"We may have gotten a set of vehicles that can easily rival Kuromorimine's lineup but... I heard that she learned from the final against Oorai last tournament. However, they base their tactics heavily on the Blitzkrieg stratagem from the Second World War." Darjeeling opened the folder, revealing a large amount of pieces of paper. Each file contained information on every tank that was known to be used by Kuromorimine.

"I'm all too familiar with that... 'style'." Jason looked up, remembering when he heard war had been declared many years ago (to him, almost six years, to Darjeeling almost 80 years), Britain was going to prepare for a huge-scale war against Germany and her allies.

"Oh? You are? Then maybe you know of some weaknesses to it?" Darjeeling's posture straightened, as if a sense of hope helped her sit up properly.

"Well... uh..." Jason racked his brain for any possibilities and weaknesses he encountered when fighting the Germans, "Communication. A strategy like that relies heavily on communication and timing. If we can get behind them, confuse them or pick off stragglers one by one, we can hit them with a main force. If we can use light vehicles to focus on the heaviest enemies, we should gain an advantage. The Desert Rats use their superior speed and agility to successfully dominate the enemy, if the Stuarts have good communication in themselves, then they can easily coordinate an attack on unsuspecting foes." Jason dropped the finished cigarette butt by his boot and stepped on it.

"You seem to know what you're talking about." Darjeeling wore a warm smile on her lips, her kind eyes laying on his face.

"Mm..." Jason tried to think of an excuse as to why he knew so much, because he can't just blatantly say that he is a soldier in the Royal Tank Corps. "I've read a lot of books on tank combat. Old and modern. Britsh, French, German, Russian and American. I used to have a small library to myself for things like that." Although he wasn't lying, Jason bent the truth a bit. Back when he was still fighting in Africa, France, and Germany, he'd busy himself by studying fighting patterns and reports from previous battles. He wanted to know the enemies' next moves so he could be multiple steps ahead. He never really got to exercise his knowledge because his tank was always supported by other British tanks. Until, of course, his column got ambushed and they were split up.

"Can we go inside? It's getting a little bit chilly." Darjeeling seemed to be hugging herself to keep warm. She did have a sweater and a coat on, as well as a pair of patrol boots and thick socks. Jason was fine where he was, in just a undershirt and a white shirt, everyday blue jeans and his combat boots.

"Aye, alright then. I'll pop the kettle on too." Jason pushed himself up, offering a hand to the blonde beside him. She happily took it, standing up with him. The two of them went into his flat and talked more about the match they'd be in. Jason also spoke a bit about his family and his past, making sure not to let any time-travel stuff slip out. Darjeeling, now feeling more comfortable around the Captain told him a little more about herself.

"Hey, it's uh... gotten really late hasn't it?" Darjeeling looked at her watch, a worried look now on her face. Jason looked up at the clock on the wall, seeing it was now one thirty in the morning.

"Shite, I'm sorry. This is my fault-"

"It's alright. As it's too late to walk back to my dormitory now, may I sleep here tonight?" A pink shade grew on her cheeks when she asked this, but Jason knew that he had to keep to himself. As much as he wanted to be closer to her (not physically, perverts), he needed to make sure he didn't jeopardise their closeness already. They've known each other for almost four months, and his feelings towards the commander were indeed something he didn't want, but got anyway.

"Uh... yeah, sure." He scratched the back of his head. "Um..." Jason couldn't think, his mind was being filled with an incredulously large amount of things.

"May I borrow one of your shirts?" Darjeeling asked, causing Jason to stiffen up.

"Y-yeah, sure..." He recomposed himself and breathed deeply. He stood up from the table they were sitting at and went to his wardrobe. He picked out the cleanest, neatest shirt and took it off the hangar. '_I have no idea what to do in this situation. This has never happened before. Dear God, what do I do?'_ Jason went through about a million thought processes as he got her bed ready. He heard her pick up the shirt and go into the bathroom, probably to get changed. His mind was racing, what should he do? He felt most comfortable when sleeping when he's just in his pants but obviously he couldn't do that with a girl in the same room, let alone it being the Commander of St Gloriana. Rapidly getting changed into just a grey vest and pajama shorts, he sat on the spare mattress he laid out next to the bed. He couldn't believe his chances. He never thought this would ever happen. What about school?! They had to be at school in less than 7 hours. This was a nightmare.

Jason stuffed his face into his pillow, lying on his belly. A low grumble came from his muffled face as he thought about the bizarre situation he found himself in. A moment later, he heard the bathroom door open then close, he opened one eye. Blinded by the beauty of the blonde goddess standing in the doorway, Jason prayed that this situation wouldn't get weird. Darjeeling had her hair out of the immaculate French braid she always had it in but wore it down. Her hair softly rested below her chest, gleaming in the moon's light from the window. The shirt she borrowed was way too many sizes too big, the bottom of the shirt hung just above her knees like a Victorian night dress. He couldn't deny that she looked adorable, but he didn't want to seem weird by staring.

"Thank you, Jason, for letting me borrow this. Also, for letting me stay here tonight." Darjeeling softly put her casual clothes on the table, gracefully shifting into the sheets of the bed afterwards.

"Mmm, no problem." Jason turned onto his back and stared at the ceiling, his arms laying behind his head. "anytime..." He mumbled under his breath, closing his eyes.

"I'll have to leave early, you know. I'll need to get my school uniform from my dormitory." Darjeeling yawned quietly.

"I guessed that'd be the case."

"Goodnight, Jason-kun."

"Goodnight."


	4. 4

**This is the match against Kuromorimine! Shit gets crazy! Also! There may or may not be a little bit violence in this chapter, but I don't want to spoil anything so you'll either be looking forward to it or it just won't be there! **

**I hope you're enjoying the story so far :)))))) - Kekled UwU**

* * *

"You slept with the Commander last night?!" Charles exclaimed, quickly getting a rough hand covering his mouth.

"Shut up! I didn't sleep _with _her, just in the same room. Bloody hell, you wee shite. Step out of line like that again and I'll batter yer arse. Got it?" Jason held up a clenched fist to Charles' face, receiving a terrified nod in reply. Jason took his hand off his mouth and relaxed. "Don't any o' yers talk about this, ya hear? If I find out that word has spread we could be done fer, 'aight?"

"Y-yes Sir!" Charles saluted his Captain, as did Douglas and Seamus.

"Feckin good to hear. Now, buggar off to class. I don't want to see yas until we're called out to the tank sheds. You should have your uniforms in your bags, don't forget them later." Jason left the younger boys, quickly climbing up the stairs. As he reached the second floor, he bumped into one of the other boys.

"Oi, watch where you're going." The boy stepped back, almost arching his neck back to look at the towering Scot. Upon seeing who it was, an immense look of terror appeared on the younger boys' face. "A-ah! I'm sorry!"

"Don't get in my way next time." Jason pushed the second-year out of the way and continued up the stairs. That was something he didn't want to happen, being forced to talk to the other boys. They aren't from his time, that's for sure. However, they are British. Jason got to his class, receiving a few quick glances from the girls already in the room. He sat down in his chair and slouched in it, his legs splayed out at the front. In the end, he didn't manage to get any sleep that night, mainly because he's never slept in the same room with the opposite sex. It was revelationary for him. However, there were dark circles under his eyes and his automatically messy red hair was even more of a mess. The room was naturally at a noise level where its gentle chatter, but it went deadly silent when the door opened. Jason realised this change and turned his head towards the door. Darjeeling was standing in the doorway in her Sensha-do uniform. Her hair was tied up in a Dutch braid rather than the French she's commonly known to wear. Squinting his eyes, he tried to make sure it was actually Darjeeling. Her eyes landed on him, staring at him. They locked eyes for a moment before she started walking towards him.

"Departure time was pushed forward today. We're leaving now, please get ready quickly." Darjeeling stood to the side, allowing Jason to pick up his bag and sling it over his shoulder. The two of them speed-walked down the stairs, mixing in with other tank crews as they descended.

"What's the reason for this?" Jason asked the commander, looking to the side at her.

"The Headmistress asked for it. We will be doing the final preparations and checks. In two hours, we'll be taking the tanks down to the fighting arena." There was a serious expression plastered on her face, one he's rarely seen before.

"Hey, Cap!" Charles and Douglas ran up to Jason, walking beside him. "Good morning Commander Darjeeling."

"Good morning. You boys need to get changed." Darjeeling fished a ring of keys out of her jacket pocket, leading a mass of tankery practitioners to the row of five tank hangars. Seamus caught up to the other three and nodded to his Captain. Jason pulled his own keys out and unlocked the hangar door, pushing it open and bringing the other three inside.

"Hitch, start up _Ginny. _Samson and O'Haire, get those doors open. Darjeeling is probably giving a speech to the crews, so this gives us time to help them prepare." Jason jogged over to the brand new Tortoise, climbed up and opened the driver's hatch. He lowered himself in and started up the engine, feeling the pedals at his feet vibrate from the pistons. After starting up the heavy vehicles kept in Hangar Five, Hitch and Jason got changed into their Sensha-do uniforms. Unlike the girls' uniforms, these were the uniforms they used in the Royal Tank Corps. Khaki overalls with webbing containing some tools. Jason donned his protective goggles and his black beret, as well as his Captain's jacket. Samson and O'Haire had gotten changed too after opening the hangar doors with similar uniforms. The only difference between Jason and his three other crew members was the Webley revolver strapped to his waist and the jacket. Hitch started the ignition and put it into gear, driving the Sherman out of the hangar.

As the first tank out, they placed themselves in the position Darjeeling had asked them to get into. When Hitch stopped the engine, Jason hopped down from the Firefly. He saw Darjeeling's Black Prince park about seven meters ahead. One by one, as if coordinated beforehand, the other tanks filed out of the hangars and assumed the formation they'd be going in for the match. The sergeant and the two corporals set to work on green camouflage netting for the Firefly, as well as a crew putting on netting on a supporting Comet I behind them. Jason walked over to the commander of the Comet, smiling at her.

"Hey, you girls need some help with that?" Jason offered, adjusting his jacket. The commander looked up from a knot in some rope and gave him a half-smile.

"I think we've got this covered, but thanks for offering. Darjeeling said that we'll be following your orders for this match." The girl was about a foot smaller than him, had short black hair and a soft countenance. "I'm Lavender, it's a pleasure to work with you." She bowed to him. He bowed back and smiled at her.

"Pleasure is mine. During the match, I'll need you to work as target spotting and distraction making. I'll ask for your help with a heavier armoured target if I need it. With your 17-pounder, your firepower is equal to mine. Don't fire without my permission, too. I'll let you give the command to fire free if it's an emergency." Jason knew he was being a little strict, but if he wasn't now then it wouldn't be as easy later. The girl smiled at him and nodded.

"Very well, We'll do our best to impress you!" Lavender grinned and returned to her tank, where the other four of her crew were setting up the camouflage. Jason sighed, turning back to look at the Black Prince. Darjeeling was staring at him. He shot a grin at her and her eyes softened. The blonde commander returned the smile.

An hour passed, and all commanders gave the o.k to Darjeeling. In a huge symphony of sounds, all the engines fired up. Leading the convoy, Darjeeling took the 15 tanks out of the ship, and onto the harbour that was hosting the first semi-final. The setting was of a large field of hills and woods, allowing many different vantage and ambush points to be exploited by St Gloriana. St Gloriana, however, started furthest away from the highest hill on the map, which would come as a disadvantage later on unless she sends her fastest vehicles there to secure it. But, Kuromorimine could send its toughest tanks to take control of the hill, where Cromwells and Stuarts can't easily take them out. Darjeeling knew this was going to be a chore, but it would be worth it if they got into the finals either against Saunders or Oorai. At this moment in time, she wasn't appreciating the odds on Saunders winning the finals as Oorai proved their skills in the previous tournament.

Before the match started, all tanks and crews were to meet from both schools. Darjeeling and Jason wished good luck to Maho and Erika, who gave Jason a few snide comments and disgraceful looks. Jason scanned the German tank crews, looking for a crew of maybe four or five boys. At the end, he saw five boys in original German tank uniforms that he saw prisoners wearing. The commander of that crew was a menacing-looking boy, with his officers cap and his coal-black trench coat draped over his shoulders. The two of them locked eyes, staring at each other. A devilish smirk grew on the scarred lips of the German commander, lifting something up from his shirt. An Iron Cross. Jason clenched his fists, scrunching up his face. This boy he was staring at was a commander from his time! There was no doubt about it. His crew looked like they were, too. After the rules were told to each of the overall commanders, they bowed to each other and turned to their forces. Jason took one last look over his shoulder at the Wehrmacht soldier, hoping _Ginny_ takes out whatever tank he's commanding. The flag tanks were decided, a Panther Ausf. D for Kuromorimine and the A22F Churchill VII for St Gloriana.

* * *

_Ginny _and the accompanying Comet I set up far away from the main force in the dense emerald forest, making sure to keep off the road and give away that Kuromorimine is being flanked. The Comet was driving about ten meters ahead of the Firefly, looking for any ambush or vantage points they could effectively utilise their 17-pounders with. Coincidentally, there was a row of rocks and trees separating the field ahead of them and the forest they were in. Hiding behind some trees and bushes, the Comet dug in and had more foliage put on it. The Firefly sat behind a large rock and placed itself in a ditch that almost perfectly fit its hull.

Now they play the waiting game.

Jason looked through a pair of binoculars at the field, scanning for any movement among the hills and further tress.

"So Darjeeling said there was a column of tanks headed this way? If that was true, they'd be here by now." Lavender stated through the radio, also looking through a pair of binoculars of her own.

"Maybe it was false information," Jason replied, letting the binoculars hang on his neck.

"We don't do false information." The girl retaliated with an aggravated tone.

"Alright, maybe Kuromorimine got stuck somewhere."

From out of nowhere, an orange streak crossed the field ahead of them.

"Buggar, get in the tank." Jason dropped further into his hatch, his head and shoulders still out. Lavender hopped into her Comet. "Where did that come from..." Looking both left and right, he saw both St Gloriana and Kuromorimine tanks on both sides of the field.

"What do we do, Jason-senpai?" Requesting new orders, Lavender looked over at the Scot.

"We wait, Darjeeling's orders were to hold our ground. If our forces move back, then we can ambush them. I feel like Darjeeling has deliberately moved their forces this way." Jason tapped his gunner's shoulder. "Keep your finger off the trigger until I say. We're waiting."

"Yes Sir," Charles nodded and leaned into his scope but let his hands rest on his lap. A firefight started in front of them, an orchestra of different muzzle sounds and ricochets erupted from the other sides. Not a single tank on St Gloriana's side had been lost, but two Panthers and a Jagdpanzer IV has been taken out on Kuromorimine's side. Jason looked over at the German tanks, seeing Maho's Tiger I and Erika's Tiger II backing up. The firefight momentarily stopped as the great monstrosities of the Jagdtiger and Elefant pushed their heavy hulls over the ridge. Being used as armour for a supposed Blitzkrieg tactic, the two beasts fired back. A Comet was quickly taken out by the 128mm cannon of the Jagdtiger and a Cromwell by the Elefant. The 17 and 6 pounders kept firing. The Tigers followed the super heavy machinery, firing their 88mm cannons at the defending British tanks in unison. The Churchill and Tortoise never joined this battle, slinking off into the dense forest that Jason and Lavender were in.

A great spectacle of all three Desert Rats jumping down from the hill behind the Kuromorimine forces shone through the fields. As if they were powered by jets, the little American tanks barreled down the side at immense speeds, making a beeline for the German tanks. One suddenly got shot out from behind them, by two Panthers laying in wait. The other two began sidewinding, weaving in and out until reaching the four massive brutes of vehicles. They began messing with the larger tanks, firing their cannons but not getting penetrating hits. After a few failed attempts, they decided to shoot at the tracks of the Jagdtiger and the Elefant, giving the 17-pounders easier chances to hit weak spots. The Stuarts hammered the engine block of the Tiger I, knowing that a lucky shot should be able to stop it. Maho's gunner took out the second-to-last Stuart, leaving the sole Stuart to finish the job. In a sense of confusion by the Stuart's driver, it kept running circles around the two Tigers, barely dodging many shells by the Tigers and the Panthers. In the end, it tracked the Tiger II and caused the Tiger's engine to catch on fire.

Silently, the British spectators (Lavender and Jason) cheered for the squad of Stuarts for buying St Gloriana time to re-locate.

"Jason, Lavender. I'm giving you the o.k to fire upon the heavies." Darjeeling ordered to the Firefly and the Comet, "Good hunting."

"Lavender, tell your gunner to set her sights on the side of the Elefant, the ugly looking one. I've got the Jagdtiger. We can't fire upon the Tiger II until their crew fixes their tracks. We'll wait to fire until-"

A stray shell from the forest flew past them, another firefight had been moved into the forest. The shell landed in the hill behind the four German heavy tanks. Jason hoped the Tigers wouldn't traverse their turrets towards the forest, crossing his fingers. Much to his disappointment, the tracks had been fixed and all the tanks in front of them faced them.

"Fuck. Open fire, Hitch, get us out of here." Jason tapped his gunner's back with his boot, letting Charles know to open fire at the heavy vehicles. Another track was taken out for the Jagdtiger, the commander waved her fist and screamed inappropriate language at the Firefly. The Sherman and the Comet reversed out of their hiding places and booked it. Thanks to some of the foliage they stole from the forest, it wasn't easy for the German gunners to follow where they were going, firing stray shots in the general direction of the British movements. A shell from the Elefant ricocheted off the side armour of the Firefly, somehow. Jason was appreciating the luck that had been bestowed upon him and his crew.

After escaping the sights of the chasing German beasts, the Firefly and the Comet made a huge U-turn to try and get behind their chasers. More stray shots came from the forest on their right. Jason considered going to help, but Darjeeling would ask for it if they were needed.

In the field, the Jagdtiger was being circled by two Cromwells, receiving hit after hit. The Cromwells used their superior horsepower from their new engines to force the massive tank into a ditch. It's engine gave out and a fire erupted from the deck. The Jagdtiger had been taken out by two cavalry tanks. Lavender spotted the two Tigers and the Elefant, moving straight for the firefight deep in the woods. This was their chance.

"Stop the tank, Hitch. Let Charles line up the shot." Hitch stopped the tank, angling the hull a little. The gunner popped his chewing gum and aimed down his sights. An expression of pure focus covered his face. He slowly turned the barrel onto the engine block of the Tiger II, knowing this was the more potent enemy of the three. The Elefant's engine could set fire at any given moment and the Tiger I had armour that was easily broken through by the 76mm guns of the British tanks. Charles squeezed the trigger and sent the shell directly into the rear of the late-war vehicle. It stopped in the middle of the forest and smoke started billowing out of its exhausts. A pearly white flag popped up out of the turret. Lavender fired at the Tiger I, ricocheting off its turret as it turned towards the offending vehicles. In the series of unfortunate events, two Panthers fired upon the stationary Sherman and Comet. One 75mm shell hit the side of the Comet, taking it out immediately. Over the radio, Jason heard Lavender apologise profusely. Hitch put the Firefly back into gear, shooting the tank out of the previous position. As Charles was lining up his shot on the Tiger I, he saw the Elefant's white flag pop up, probably because of the stress on the transmission. Charles fired another shell, bouncing off the angled armour of the Tiger. Now, it was a game of cat and mouse. Between three cats, and one mouse. The two Panthers were gaining on the fleeing Firefly from the opposite side, firing at Jason's tank.

He had to think of something, quickly. Pondering his options, he picked up the radio and called in the two Cromwells from before. Asking for them to initiate a firefight with the Panthers and him to draw the Tiger into a trap so if the firefight went their way, they could corner the Tiger. The commanders acknowledged his orders and proceeded to chase down the Panthers. Jason looked behind at the Tiger that was chasing them. All he had to do now was wait for the Cromwells to either be taken out, or successfully surprise the Panthers. Another two shells flew past the Firefly as it weaved through the trees. The Panthers were getting closer. This cat and mouse game was getting closer and closer. As if coordinated, all three pursuing vehicles fired at the Sherman in unison, one shell scraped the camo-netting and ripped it off as the other two missed.

Two mechanic thuds could be heard from Jason's left, seeing two Cromwells hopping into the fray and firing at the rear of the Panthers. One of the big cats were taken out. The second Panther immediately put on the brakes. One Cromwell rammed into the back of the bigger German tank and the other sped past it. The Panther shot and hit the second Cromwell, taking it out. The first A27M was still in the game, however both front drive-wheels were destroyed. The Panther reversed onto the Cromwell. The 6-pounder cannon, muffled by the tank beginning to mount it, fired into the bottom of the Panther's hull taking it out. The driver reversed out from under the Panther, but was also taken out due to its suspension breaking apart. Jason thanked the Cromwell's over the radio as it sped into a valley deep in the woods. Hitch yanked the Firefly around a bend, taking it out of the Tiger's sights. Pulling the Sherman into an ambush for the Tiger, with the A30 Challenger and the last A27M Cromwell. Thankfully, they were nearby on a defensive flank so they could be taken on for this ambush. The Tiger never came through the valley. Jason sent the Cromwell down the valley and he and the Challenger 180'd to the direction it would have come from. The Cromwell returned a minute later reporting that the Tiger had disappeared. Jason knew it wouldn't have been deceived, Maho knew what she was doing the whole time.

A volley of shots erupted on and around the waiting tanks. The Cromwell was immediately taken out and one of the Challenger's tracks were destroyed. Two Jagdpanthers, a Jagdpanzer and two Panthers emerged from the bushes to the left of them, firing another symphonic volley of shells at the tanks. Hitch, now dripping with sweat, pulled the Firefly back into the valley. The Challenger took out one of the Panthers and the last Jagdpanzer before being shot down by a Jagdpanther. Jason was hoping Darjeeling was having more luck. However, if that was the main force of Kuromorimine, then Darjeeling and her group were either re-locating or hiding. That force built by the German counter-attack was to take out the Firefly. Clenching his fists, he couldn't believe that his tank was being targeted by the enemy, and not the other 17-pounder tanks.

"Darjeeling, come in, Darjeeling. We've got into a spot of trouble here." Jason radioed in to the overall commander, frantically looking behind him as the German tanks spilled out of the valley.

"What's the matter, Jason?" Darjeeling's calm voice escaped the radio.

"Well, first bit to talk about is that our only tanks left are the ones with you and of course, us. Second, we're being chased, and targeted by the wankers. Third, where are you?" Jason ducked into the hatch as a few shells flew over the fleeing Sherman.

"As you and your distraction took the main body of opposing forces, we have set up on the vantage point. Do be careful, you might come across the Tiger and the flag tank." Reminding Jason that this wasn't an elimination game, he groaned in reply.

"Alright, we'll be careful."

"Change of plan, do you mind being bait, Jason?"

"Bait?" Jason replied, trying to make sure he heard her correctly. He shrugged as O'Haire raised a questioning eyebrow at him.

"Mm, you'll be the scared mouse, and they'll be the hungry cats. We'll be the dogs off their leads." Darjeeling ended the transmission, leaving Jason in a quiet state of confusion. Thinking over the strategy, and past experiences, he doubted Kuromorimine would actually chase down the Firefly the whole way. Perhaps they would send a Panther and a Jagdpanther to create the image of a chase and use the rest of their forces to flank. Jason accepted this as an inevitability as he knew Kuromorimine wouldn't dive headstrong as Pravda did. Jason ordered the driver to go up the hill, to meet with St Gloriana's main force.

The Firefly edged itself up the hill and was met by the last Comet and the Black Prince. The Tortoise and the Churchill were nowhere to be seen. As the Firefly turned its hull, orange shell streaks flew over the hill. The Comet and the Black Prince traversed their turrets to aim at the new enemy. Two Panthers and a Jagdpanther fired again at the three pieces of British armour. One shell bounced off Darjeeling's heavy tank, and the other two whistled past the smaller tanks. The 17-pounders cracked a volley in return, two hitting but no penetration. A firefight began between the six tanks, neither side receiving losses just yet. An explosion erupted to their left as a Jagdpanther and the Tiger fired upon the Black Prince. The Tiger's shot ricocheted off the hull armour and the Jagdpanther whiffed the shot. The Black Prince turned the turret as fast as it would allow it to go, quickly firing back at the Tiger and Jagdpanther. The three British tanks were soon going to be cornered. Jason counted the enemy tanks, seeing one less Panther: the flag tank. Samson eliminated the first Jagdpanther, as the second Panther took out the final Comet.

Darjeeling ordered a retreat as the Tiger fired another round, ricocheting off the frontal armour of the Black Prince. Both tanks began reversing down the hill, making sure their thickest armour faced the enemy.

"Got any plans, Darjeeling?" Jason asked exasperatedly.

"Have you heard of this English proverb, 'Don't put all your eggs in one basket?'" Darjeeling replied with an ultimate level of placidness.

"I think so?" Jason ducked again as another shell flew past the turret.

"Good. We re-locate and hold strong. We wait for the mother hen to return to its nest." the Black Prince turned once it was behind a few trees, narrowly escaping another 88mm shell from the Tiger. The Firefly returned fire, taking out the second to last Panther. The Jagdpanther fired another shell, shattering the Firefly's left track. Still in the game, Samson and O'Haire worked overtime on hammering in the next shots. The Tiger and both Jagdpanthers traversed their barrels to aim at the Firefly.

Time seemed to slow down in the final moments of Jason's crew. He knew that he wouldn't get killed if all three fired at him, but that internal fear of death resurfaced as he could look down every barrel of the German guns. An unsettling amount of terror rose inside of Jason, he could feel beads of sweat drip down his face.

A harsh discordant sound burst from behind the Firefly, the wind violently rushed past the tank as the shell flew over it at a thousand meters per second. A second later a white flag appeared on the turret of the Tiger and the two Jagdpanthers readjusted their sights onto whatever fired from within the dense woods. The British bunker on tracks peacefully rolled ahead of the Firefly, continuing its harsh attack on the German Tank Destroyers. The Black Prince advanced next to the Firefly and returned fire. The two German tanks were reversing, quickly being backed up by an abnormal Panther, painted in a different camouflage to the rest of the Panthers in the Kuromorimine inventory. It bore the sign of the Wehrmacht rather than Kuromorimine. The muzzle exploded in an orange array of colours, the shell flew and hit the Black Prince, immediately taking it out.

The enemy flag tank had shown itself, and it was baring its teeth.

Its next shot escaped its barrel and tracked the Tortoise. The 32-pounder cannon fired at the Panther, but it reversed just in time. Samson executed the last Jagdpanther, and both British guns were zeroed in on the Panther II.

"How in God's fecking name did that wee bastard get his hands on a fecking prototype!?" Jason punched the Firefly turret, and remembered instantly it was made out of steel when a sharp shock of pain coursed through his hand and wrist. "Wanker!" He yelled, clutching his fist.

The 88mm cannon of the Panther II opened fire on something behind them, then a resonating 'ding' echoed through the woods. St Gloriana's flag tank emerged from the foliage. At this point, it was a battle between two tracked vehicles, a slow one and a German medium tank that can easily take out all three if it positioned itself effectively enough. Samson and the Tortoise began defiling the ridge the Panther was hiding behind as mud and grass was being kicked up. The Panthers' cover was quickly turning into nothing. Hitch repaired the track and quickly hopped back into his seat, pulling the hatch down with him.

Slowly recovering from punching the solid metal, and thinking he's broken his wrist from it too, Jason demanded Hitch to get in front of the flag tank. The corporal pulled in front of the advancing Churchill, covering all of its hull with its own. The Panther fired another shell at the Churchill, ricocheting off its thick turret armour. The Tortoise fired again after it's track was fixed, hitting dead on the middle of the Panther II's front glacias. It wasn't a killing blow.

"Good things come to those who wait..." Samson whispered to himself, waiting for the opportune moment to squeeze the trigger. The Panther turned its hull ever so slightly, as well as it's turret. It was aiming at the Firefly. Samson squeezed the trigger as he saw a perfect opening to the Panther's weaker armour. The 76mm shell soared through the air, passing the 88mm that was fired from the barrel of the Panther. The 17-pounder shell embedded itself in a flurry of sparks within the angled side armour of the Panther II.

A white flag popped up from the turret of the Panther, as well as the Firefly's. The match was over, with only the A22F Churchill and the A39 Tortoise surviving.

**"St Gloriana's Girls College wins the match, taking it into the finals!" **The announcer's voice echoed through the fields and hills, quickly followed by cheers from the spectators.

Jason painfully popped open his hatch, pulling himself up and looking around him. Darjeeling was hugging Orange Pekoe, a warm smile on her face. The crew of the Tortoise was dancing and cheering at each other, proud of successfully using the new bunker on tracks. Still clutching his broken wrist, Jason sat on the turret of his tank, eyeing the pure white flag flapping in the wind. They won the semi-final and are now moving into the finals.

The commander of the Panther II stood on top of his tank, like a bloodied warrior standing on top of a pile of dead bodies. His trench coat flapped in the high winds, enhancing the imposing and intimidating look he wore so proudly. The German glared down the hill at Jason, who had now noticed the demonic officer. Jason unclipped his Webley holster and pulled the revolver out of the leather bindings. With his good hand, Jason aimed down the iron-sights and pulled back the firing hammer at the man on top of the hill. Judging the consequences, he let his hand fall, defeated. The officer climbed back into the hatch with a visible grin from where Jason was sitting, and disappeared from view. The Panther II revved its engine and took itself down the hill, then took a 90 to its left and drove away.

How a prototype tank was brought into this Jason probably would never find out, but he had to try. He had to find out how, one way or another.


	5. 5

**_!_PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT_!_**

**This chapter does include **_M RATED_** stuff.**

**SHIT. GOES. DOWN.**

**hope you enjoy :3 - Kekled**

* * *

"You broke your wrist? Are you ok?"

"Aye, I'm alright..."

"I hope so. Can I pour you a cup of tea?" Darjeeling hovered over the kettle in the student council room. It was only those two in the room, everyone else in the student council had things to do or were in their clubs.

"I would love one, thank you." Jason leaned back in one of the chairs, lifting up his left hand and looking at the white cast.

"How did you manage it?" The blonde asked, fetching two teacups for themselves.

"Punched the tank..."

"That was rather foolish, don't you think?" Darjeeling continued to make the two cups of teas for them, waiting now for the water to boil.

"I have my moments."

"After this tournament, I'll be going to the United Kingdom." The commander poured the water into the cups, stirring the ingredients in both.

"Mm, alright." Jason took a second to process what she had just said and gasped. "Wait, what?"

"I applied to a couple of universities a few months ago. One of which I was accepted into, and it happens to be in England." Placing a tray on the table in the room, Darjeeling sat down across from Jason.

"Wow, I'm impressed. Cambridge?"

"Yes, actually. I'll be studying English Literature there." Darjeeling brought her cup to her lips, and took a sip.

"That's incredible, must be getting high grades then," carefully picking up his cup, Jason eyed the warm substance.

"As much as I don't like to talk about my grades too much, yes. My parents have been pushing me for this so I decided to act on it. I've been studying for the majority of days since the day they told me about their expectations. However, I'm fairly confident with this move. I just wonder if someone would come over with me." Darjeeling gracefully moved her gaze to his eyes. He looked up with a clueless expression, meeting her soft blue eyes with his own harsh dark blue ones.

"Well, I'm sure Orange Pekoe or Assam would happily go with you." Jason sipped his black tea.

"As much as they seem to want to come with me, they've still got another year to go yet here." Darjeeling watched Jason's movements, who was still completely clueless about what she was trying to get at.

"Oh, well... I..." Jason took a moment to think. Was she asking him to go with her? _Wait what. _She was! Trying not to choke on the tea he had just drank, Jason tried to recompose himself. "You're asking if I could go with you?" Darjeeling simply nodded, a humble smile on her lips.

"Since this is your final year here too, you must apply to a university or find a career to enter." Darjeeling drank some more of her tea, her eyes not falling off of Jason.

"Best start applying then..." Jason said to himself, sighing and leaning into the back of the chair.

"You can say no, too. I'm not forcing you."

"I never said I refused, Darjeeling. I just need to think it over, because I can't leave my boys here."

"Well, as much as I would appreciate your company over there, I can't force you to come with me," taking a long sip from her cup, Darjeeling looked down into the milky brown liquid.

"I'll talk about it with the boys later. As much as I'd love to visit Cambridge, I also don't want to leave them alone. They're like brothers to me." Jason finished his cup and carefully placed it back on the tray. "Thank you for the tea, by the way. I'm sorry I didn't say anything earlier." Darjeeling chuckled lightly and waved him off.

"It's alright, I hope it was to your liking?" The blonde commander asked, tilting her head very slightly.

"Of course, if it's made by you why wouldn't it be?" Immediately after saying that, the two of them became a little pink in the cheeks. Jason slouched in his chair a little more and Darjeeling simply just smiled, her posture still strong. She sipped her tea.

"Thank you." She uttered, giving him a reassuring look. As embarrassed as he was, Jason laughed to himself to try and recover.

"On the matter of going with you, back to 'ole Blighty... I'll think about it. But it definitely isn't a no, yet. I want to go back home, but I want to make sure the boys aren't left alone."

"I understand, I won't rush you. It's your choice." Finishing her own cup, Darjeeling placed it back on the tray and stood up. Jason quickly pushed himself up off the chair and bowed.

"Thank you, Darjeeling-dono; for giving me this chance." Jason kept his head bowed.

"It's my pleasure. Now," Darjeeling clasped her hands together with a faint smile, "I do believe its time to go home."

* * *

_21st March, 1945. Western Front. France._

_The front is merciless, there isn't a day where I don't see something that came from the depths of hell itself. The things we soldiers deal with every day is nothing compared to life back home. What is home? The army is my home. I'd be nowhere if I wasn't in the army. Britain is an island. Britain is my home. Britain is the most powerful island known to man. We have entered a war we can't ever forget. Let it be known that the little island has played a huge role in this war of atrocities. We will finish it as the victors. But as the victors, what have we won? Peace? No. There'll be never be peace. Not when humanity is concerned._

"Captain, the Brigadier wants to see you." Corporal Charles Samson, a young boy who knew nothing but squeezing the trigger and hoping the shell would hit. He stood in front of my tent with a strong salute, his uniform dirtied from the works he's been doing on the tanks. He worked as a motor engineer with his father in the family business, until he enlisted with the Royal Tank Corps a few years ago.

"Alright, thank you corporal," I close my booklet and tie the binding around it. Standing up, I stuff the booklet in my left breast pocket and pick up my black beret. I fix the beret upon my head and align my shirt and trousers as I duck out of the door to the tent. "Did the Brigadier mention why he asked for me?"

"No, Sir. All he said was for me to ask for you." Samson walked alongside me as we walked towards the Headquarters.

"Enjoying France, yet?" I asked, not taking my eyes off the path ahead of me. The corporal took a moment to answer after looking around his environment.

"Haven't necessarily had the chance yet, Sir." He replied, a faint sense of disappointment in his demeanor.

"Neither have I. I doubt we'll be here for long, either. It's been heard General Monty has been planning the invasion of Fritz for a couple days now. We might be leaving tomorrow or the day afterwards." The corporal and I reached the building in which the Higher-Ups were forging the next operation. I stepped up once, giving a weak salute to Samson. He gave a much stronger salute in return and turned to leave. Sighing, I walked up the stairs into the building. Met by two guards at the door, they saluted me. I nodded in response and turned a corner, seeing the Brigadier and a few other COs in a room together. They all seemed quite high up. Gingerly knocking on the door, I stepped inside. The room itself was grand, royal blue wallpaper with french floral patterns lining it. The ceiling was painted a pure white, a chandelier was in the center. The chandelier itself was golden and silver, also looking incredibly expensive. This was quite clearly a rich mans house - or woman - but either they were killed or fled the area, because there was no Frenchman in a 5 mile radius. Excluding the farmers who had never left their homes, of course. Two large windows sat in the wall to the left, allowing an easy view of the rubble-filled road down below.

"You asked for me, Sir?"

"Ah! Brilliant timing, Captain Stevenson. There's someone here I'd like you to meet." The Brigadier was a large burly man with a dark grey muttonstache and a large scar across his left eye. He had served in the Great War thirty years ago as a foot solider, earning a few medals in the two years he served during the war. The Brigadier reached out an arm towards a silhouette of a man sitting in a royal-looking armchair. The chair seemed strategically placed, facing away from the door and instead at the lit fireplace. The man in the chair stood up and slowly turned his head towards me, with a penetrating glare that bore into me. He had a small stature and a slim build, perhaps built for a being crew for a tank. Hold on a minute...

"This young man is a tank ace, he'll be leading the convoy to 'ole Fritz's front door tomorrow. His name is **[REDACTED]** and he's a **[REDACTED] .** He'll fill you in on the rest." The Brigadier **[REDACTED] **the young man and **[REDACTED]. [REDACTED] ****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]**** = Captain Jason ****Stevenson= ****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED] - Corporal Charles Samson - ****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED] - Sergeant Seamus O'Haire - ****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]**** \- Corporal Douglas Hitch - ****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]****[REDACTED]**

**permissions : all**

**code : 0046**

**alternate timeline : 3**

**subject : jason stevenson**

**redo? Y/N**

**N**

**relocate? Y/N**

**Y**

**processing...**

**[TERMINATE] [INDOCTRINATE] [RE-INITIATE] **

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A gap in the air. Electric blue. Unknown. A mystery.

A forest. Emerald green. Surrounded by green leaves and brown trunks.

M4A4 Sherman VC 'Firefly'.

_Ginny_

Captain. Sergeant. Corporal.

Japan, 20XX

"Where are we, Sergeant?"

* * *

Throwing himself up in his bed, drenched in sweat, Jason hyperventilated from the hellish nightmare he just experienced. His eyes wide with terror, a thousand yard stare. Gulping down the fear, Jason attempted to catch his breath. He wiped his brow, covering his hand in a thin film of slimy sweat. What did he just experience? Was it one of those fever dreams? He did go to bed with a terrible cold the night before, but did these things actually happen? Did he have a fever? The sweat poured off him, even though it was early October.

Lifting his hands in front of his face, he realised they weren't covered in a film of sweat, but of blood. Thick, red blood. All over his hands and arms. Why?

He looked around his room and saw nothing but blood, and... pieces. Pieces of people.

Why is this happening?

Is this what he gets for the things he has done?

Streaks of blood splattered up the walls and ceiling.

Body parts were scattered along the floor.

The faces were staring at him.

Their lifeless faces glaring at him.

The bodies weren't easily recognisable. Ripped apart by a rabid animal.

Clothes tainted by liters of blood.

There was no life in the faces he recognised.

They were people he knew. Friends from school, children in his neighbourhood, soldiers he'd met.

His Crew.

**Seamus**

**Charlie**

**Doug**

Why?

_Jason_

What?

_Wake up_

Who's there?

_Please wake up!_

Who are you?

_Wake up, Jason!_

I don't know who you are.

_Please wake up, Jason..._

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Who are you?

.

.

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.

* * *

"Jason, wake up, please! I'm so sorry! I should have called it off!" Darjeeling shook the red-heads shoulders, worry and fear covering her face when there was no reply. Seamus wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her away, kneeling down next to Jason in replacement and taking his head in his hands and holding pressure against his wound.

"Captain, I don't know what's going on in that head o' yours but you need to get up. Please, Sir." Seamus was on the verge of tears himself, seeing his best friend on the ground, unconscious and bleeding from the head.

Still, no reply.

Jason was on the floor, covered in mud, blood and sweat, surrounded by his crew and Darjeeling's crew.

During practice on the mainland, rain started falling in torrential amounts and speeds. The Sherman was already on unsafe and uneven grounds, so there was an already high chance of it tipping. But on Jason's orders, they persisted. A loose bunch of rocks became dislodged and the Sherman toppled, throwing Jason from the turret and down the hillside. Jason suffered a serious head injury as he fell, a near fatal concussion. Seamus felt the lump in his throat grow, seeing Jason's limp hand fall from Darjeeling's palm.

The blaring siren of an ambulance became louder and louder, pausing only when the white and red van stopped next to the unconscious boy. Two paramedics jumped out of the vehicle, pulling out a stretcher and a small white box. As quickly as the ambulance came, it left. Seamus rode in the back with his Captain, leaving the other 7 tankers behind.

Darjeeling put her head in her hands, uttering quiet things to herself. She's never felt this way about someone getting hurt before. She's seen her female comrades get broken limbs from accidents like this and even witnessed a near-death experience in a friendly match the year before, so why did she have more emotions now than back then? Jason will be fine, she was sure of it. But the doubts in the back of her mind stayed. So why now?

Charles and Douglas didn't know what to do. Both their senior officers were gone, leaving them behind to choose what they'll do next. This'll happen again, too. the captain will only be here for another year and Seamus will be leaving in two years too. It wasn't fair, Charles decided, it wasn't fair that they had to leave them there. They haven't been separated like this since they were assigned their first tank together. It has never happened before. So why now?

The torrential rain had stopped, and the skies began to clear. Almost as pure mockery, the sun shone down on the now glistening fields. Maybe fate will have its way once again, because the final match of the tournament is supposed to happen next week. St Gloriana can operate without a male crew, like they always have done. Even if they didn't have Jason and his crew, they would still have the possibility of winning. But it's because of his crew that they managed it this far. they wouldn't have lasted nearly as long against Kuromorimine if all they had were Matilda's, a Churchill, some Crusaders and a couple Cromwells. Of course, they would have given them a good fight, but it would have ended in defeat. Now, they have secured a victory against the Nishizumi style and are now against Ooarai Girl's Academy; the previous tournament's winners.

Darjeeling had hope they would still win even if they didn't have Jason and his crew, but it might prove more difficult. Nonetheless, Darjeeling thought, they'll put up a good fight anyway. The Ooarai girls don't bind themselves to a specific style, but work off of tactics much like guerilla warfare. Darjeeling needs to devise a strategy that can break down Ooarai that even General Montgomery of Alamein would be proud of. Instead of worrying, that's what she had decided to focus on.

Jason, still unconscious, was quickly in the hospital being treated with haste but with extreme caution and accuracy concerning where his injury was situated on his body. A few hours later, Jason was bandaged and was transferred into a room.

Jason's tired eyes darted underneath his eyelids. A dream. Or a nightmare. The top of his head was almost completely wrapped with a pure white bandage. There was also a bandage wrapped around his left thigh and left forearm where he suffered some deep cuts that also required stitching. They weren't a priority, of course. The room he was in housed only him, it was a clean white, all over. To his left was the door to the hallway, and to his right was a window that looked down two floors and onto the jade green courtyard below. The courtyard was surrounded by wards and had two wooden benches sitting on a gravel path that crossed the green area.

"This is an unfamiliar ceiling..." Jason had opened his eyes, and was looking at the peacefully rotating ceiling fan that was held above him.

"Captain! You're finally awake!" Seamus, who had been sitting on the single chair in the room had been waiting for Jason to wake up. He stood up and rushed to his bed-side, carefully placing a hand on his shoulder. "How are you feeling?"

"Like shite..." Jason coughed up a laugh, immediately regretting it as a shock of pain spread through his head. He pressed a palm to his forehead and inhaled sharply through gritted teeth. "Ow..."

"Maybe you should keep yourself from the joking about for now, Sir. I need to let someone know that you're awake." Seamus stood and turned, but was caught by Jason grabbing his wrist.

"Are the Corporal's ok?" Jason asked with worry clear in his voice. Seamus looked back at him and smiled.

"They're fine, Sir. You should worry about yourself for now. I'll be back in a jiff," Seamus gave his captain a reassuring smile, pulling his wrist away and leaving the room. He silently closed the door behind him, leaving Jason to himself. His eyes set on something out of the window, on a grey collection of rather sad looking clouds moving towards the hospital. Typical, Jason thought, as if his day couldn't get any more dreary. A silent moment passed as he watched the clouds inch closer and closer, their darkness slowly looming towards him. Because Jason had lived in rural parts of Scotland, he was used to terrible weather like this, so he wasn't that surprised. To the left of him, he heard the door open once again. He turned his head and saw an older man dressed in a white lab coat, brown trousers and white shirt, as well as a nurse in white scrubs. Seamus followed closely behind the two of them, taking his place back on the chair near the door.

The doctor clicked a pen he pulled out of his breast pocket and cleared his throat. "I am Doctor Ikawara, and this is nurse Shiku." he gestured towards the woman standing beside him. "Shiku will be looking after you in the next day or so whilst you're with us. Since you had received a concussion, and had taken quite a nasty injury to the back of your head that required stitches, you'll be in this hospital for two to three more days. We do not know the extent of the damage caused by the accident so I will now ask you some questions. Will that be alright?" The doctor pulled a clipboard out of a compartment attached to the end of Jason's bed, and scribbled down something at the top of the paper. Jason nodded, humming in agreement.

"Excellent, I shall ask you now the first question." He adjusted the glasses on his nose and looked up at his patient. "On a scale of one to ten, how would you rate the pain you are going through right now? one being the effect of a slight tap and ten being the equivalent of a broken bone."

"Three." Jason said in a bored, monotone voice. He wanted this to be over as much as everyone else in this room did. He didn't have time to wait in this room and fall behind on studies and tank classes.

"Good, good. Now, what is the last thing you remember?"

"I remember..." Taking a moment to think, he tried to recall the series of events that unfolded before he was sent to the hospital, "I remember the rain, and giving the driver the order to continue. The road was already unsafe and I knew that, but I just wanted to see if we could make it. One thing led to another and I was thrown from the tank. I think I heard some rocks fall before it toppled but... I'm not sure. After being thrown, I can't remember anything else..." Jason hung his head low, since he didn't tell his crew that it was an unsafe path to take, so he didn't want to look at Seamus and the expression he could be pulling right now.

"Alright, so just moments before you fell unconscious, you have forgotten your memory. That isn't much of a problem because we can fill you in on that." Doctor Ikawara scribbled down some notes, then clicked his pen again. "Since you're still on pain medication from the stitches and the broken bones, we'll be administering you some more painkillers later. Um... two more things, actually. We'll be monitoring your behaviour whilst you're with us, just to see if anything has changed. Since you will be visited by your friends, they can let us know if anything is different. Hopefully, nothing has changed. However these things can happen... The last thing is sleep, if you find any difficulty sleeping, don't force yourself to sleep. There is a large case of people who suffered injuries like yours having nightmares and fever dreams, however I have expectations for you. As much as I would like to give you medication to help you sleep, it could change your moods in ways we can't tell if it's your own behaviour or the chemicals in the pills changing it. I apologise for this in advance."

"Thanks doctor..." Jason looked down at the brace around his left wrist, recalling what had happened to cause it. Why has he been acting so foolishly recently?

"Of course," the older man bowed slightly and tucked the clipboard under his arm. "I'll be checking up on you in about six hours, just after dinner. Nurse Shiku, I believe he is due for more painkillers at dinner time, yes?"

"Yes, it's to be taken with his food," the nurse, a cliche young and beautiful woman, smiled at the doctor as she checked her own clipboard that seemed to pop into existence.

"Ok, well Jason, I'll leave you and your friend here alone. We'll be seeing you later." With a happy smile and a thumbs up, the doctor left the room, quickly followed by the nurse. As much as Jason wanted to have that nurse to stay in the room just a little longer, he'd be betraying feelings he had for someone else if he became interested in her. Now cursing his new teenage mind, the Captain put his head in his hands.

"Captain, are you alright?" Seamus scooted the chair closer to the bed.

"Aye, just a wee headache. Nothing to be worried about." The Scot put his hands flat on his lap, looking over to a rather tired-looking and concerned Seamus.

"You're being stubborn again, aren't you?" A weak laugh came from both of them, with Jason shaking his head.

"Well, no, but aye. Ah dinnae ken. God I feel awful. I'm sorry that I had to put you and the others through this. I'll be sure to apologise to Darjeeling properly once I've left." Leaning back in the bed, the Scot stared up at the plain white ceiling.

"You won't have to wait for that long, she said she'd visit after she's done some stuff at school," Seamus lightly tapped the railing on the bed. Jason's eyes widened, and a pain re-emerged in the back of his head. He ignored the pain and lifted himself up.

"She's what? Yer pulling me bloody leg aint'cha?" His heart began to beat faster and the pain in his head didn't help at all.

"Yeah, she said so. What? Are you worried about something?" Leaning his head on his forearm, Seamus gave a questioning frown to his captain. Jason closed his eyes, breathing slowly through parted lips.

"No, I just... didnae think she'd visit me."

"A nice surprise then. I must let you know, though..." Seamus started, receiving a worried look from Jason, "she was so, unbelievably worried when you fell down that hill, captain. I've never seen a girl react like that in my life."

"Maybe she was just scared about losing a classmate, I'm sure it was nothing special..." Jason said this as if to try and reassure himself. As much as he wanted her reasoning behind it to be special, he doubted it a lot. She wasn't the type of girl to just drop everything and rush to the side of some boy she's known for only a few months. At least, that's what Jason told himself. The truth was closer than he thought it was. Now getting comfortable in the bed, Jason rested his head on the pillow, closing his eyes. "What's the time, Seamus?"

"It's twenty to four in the afternoon," Seamus leaned back in his chair.

"Twenty to four... the practice was seven hours ago... school ended about half an hour ago..." Calculating something in his head, Jason tried to work out how long he was asleep for and how long he'll be having to wait for the commander's arrival. The sound of a notification came from Jason's bedside. Sighing, he pushed himself to his side and grabbed his phone. That set of movements in itself were extremely painful, but he tried to show that it was as little as possible. There was a message from Douglas, asking if Jason was ok and that both Douglas and Charles were, truthfully, quite anxious about his condition. Painfully and slowly tapping in a reply, Jason sent a message to reassure the corporals.

"Who was it?" asked Seamus, now pulling out his own phone.

"Just Doug, asking if I was ok. It also looks like I missed a few messages too..."

"People showing they care, that's a good thing isn't it?"

"Yeah, I suppose so. Even then, I don't think I deserve it. What I did was foolish and I could have hurt you three as well."

"Sir. it's nothing you should worry yourself over now. It's in the past, and we're ok. You're going to make a speedy recovery and you'll be out of here in that tank soon enough. I promise you that."

"Thank you Seamus, I appreciate that."

"Of course, Captain."

Just in time at the end of the conversation, a couple knocks on the door sounded through the room.

"That's probably the commander," Seamus took in a deep breath and opened the door, greeted by a worn-down but still relatively positive Darjeeling.

"Good afternoon, Seamus." The blonde girl tiredly greeted, waving a hand.

"Good afternoon, Miss." Seamus stepped to the side and allowed her to come in. Darjeeling took in the sight of the bandaged boy on the bed, a slight pain growing in her heart to see him in such a condition. To her disappointment, he wasn't looking at her. Maybe he was ashamed? No, why would he be?

"Jason-kun, how are you feeling?" She stepped to his bedside and sat down in the chair that Seamus had just moved for her. She mouthed a quick 'thank you' to him and received an acknowledging nod.

"Could be better." His response was deadpan, almost emotionless but it held a hint of dishonour and shame.

"I see... Well, I hope you are cleared to leave soon, we can't have you in here forever now, can we?" Darjeeling let out a lighthearted chuckle. A small smile creeped its way onto Jason's lips. He turned his head towards her and looked at her.

"I'm sorry if I worried you, Darjeeling..."

"It's ok. What's in the past stays in the past. You can't change it. You're here now, and you're ok. You'll get better and it'll all be back to normal." Darjeeling said this as if to reassure herself but also him. It worked, somewhat, but both of them were still left with doubts. Jason knew this would bother him for a long time. He knew he could have injured his crew along with himself. He now knows that he has to be a lot more careful now, and he can only blame what happened on himself.

"It's my fault that it happened, if you've been blaming yourself you shouldn't. You didn't know what could have happened and it was my own stubborn actions that caused this. So... I'm sorry..."

"Stop apologising, what's done is done... let's just focus on the present and the future," Darjeeling, now smiling warmly at the boy, placed a hand softly on his forearm. Jason nodded and smiled back at her, his heart rate rising again. This didn't make sense to him, but it was something he'd have to deal with. If this feeling he had right now only happened when he was near the beautiful blonde commander, then this may be a problem. A problem how? He'd have to work it out. Either way, he knew that his spirits lifted whenever he got the chance to talk to the girl sitting beside him.

The three students chatter for a while longer, making sure that Jason wasn't bored and he knew that people cared about his wellbeing. It seemed alien to him, for someone to care. The last time someone showed affection to him was when his mother was still alive. After she died, he didn't get any love from his father. He only received hate and anger from him. His father wasn't family anymore, just an old man with a broken mind. If he went back home to find that both his parents are still alive and in a happy relationship in this new world, he'd be over the moon. But there were many doubts in his mind about this, thinking that if he did return to his home he'd be greeted by an abusive father, who beats his wife and child just because they don't work to his standards.

Jason would have to prepare himself both physically and mentally for his return back to the United Kingdom. Whether he goes to Scotland straight away to see his mother, or he joins Darjeeling in Cambridge. One thing he did know was that he wouldn't have pure A's and A*'s to get into Oxbridge. Any other nearby university would do for him, or even an apprenticeship or entering some career. There was still a lot to think about, but he didn't want to say goodbye to Darjeeling for the last time this soon; there was still a lot he wanted to talk about and do with her. There was still a lot of friends to make, and with friends come enemies.

The sudden remembrance of enemies shot Jason's mind back to the SS commander in the Kuromorimine game. Who was he? Jason needed to find out, and soon, else his friends and family could be in danger. Darjeeling could be in danger.


	6. 6

**I'm sorry the last chapter (and probably this chapter too) took so long to publish, I'm currently doing A-Levels and a lot of procrastination so ... hehe ... yeah... anyway, should hope to make this chapter a wee bit more exciting and maybe a lil' bit more spooky and mysterious than the last, however it should be a bit of fun. **

**Hope you enjoy this chapter, and the many to come after it :)**

**~ Kekled ~**

* * *

Jason awoke to being held down by something, he couldn't really move. At this moment in time, he hated his memory because now he's panicking a little bit. Whatever was restraining him, it was warm. It radiated a heat that was comfortable and relaxing. Something crossed over Jason's chest, and the body of heat hugged his arm. Wait, body? Jason shot open his eyes and suddenly remembered, he fell asleep with Darjeeling in the room with him. What he didn't expect was for her to lay down with him. Was it to keep him company? It was the first time in a long while he hasn't had a nightmare too. Did she help with that? That couldn't be right. The presence of someone else kept him from having a nightmare, and that someone else was Darjeeling. She was also fast asleep, deep in the dream world. her torso rose and lowered gently with every breath.

Jason didn't know what to do, at all. Should he wake her up? No, of course not. Why would he wake up someone whilst they're asleep, and they're obviously comfortable too. Hold on, he wouldn't think twice to wake up his subordinates so why is he so scared about waking up Darjeeling? Jason could already feel his arm going dead, but it was a sacrifice he's willing to make if it keeps the girl to his side comfortable. _How did this happen? _Never in a million years did he think that something like this would happen to him, let alone by someone like Darjeeling. Could he count himself lucky or was it something else. Whatever it was, he thought too much about it. His awakening caused her to stir a little bit. She stretched out the arm she had over his chest and arched her back a little bit. Darjeeling covered her mouth as she yawned, then rubbed herself into his arm like he was a pillow. A split second later, the blonde commander opened her eyes. Her gorgeous ocean-blues glinted in the lowering sun, she moved her gaze up to Jason's face and saw him looking out the window.

Darjeeling had an intense pink blush on her cheeks and she scattered off the bed, recomposing herself shortly afterwards. This sudden movement made Jason jump and immediately worried him.

"Are you alright?" Jason asked, reaching out a hand.

"Y-Yes... I'm ok. I-I'm sorry for what I just did." She bowed, the utterly flustered look still on her face. She didn't act composed like she usually did at all, and this surprised the Scotsman immensely.

"A-Aye... You dinnae need to worry about it. I didn't wake you up for a reason..." Now a red hue covered Jason's face too, embarrassed but he still wanted to reassure the overly flustered girl. She let out a long sigh and sat in the chair next to him. She reached her hands to the back of her head and began fixing her hair.

"Jason-kun?" She raised her head and looked at him. He answered with a 'hm?' and a questioning look. Neither of them looked any less embarrassed at this moment. "When you get to leave here, can I take you to a tearoom I know of?" Her eyes darted off to the side, and never returned to look him in the eye until he gave his response. She quickly regretted asking him the question. '_What was I thinking? Asking him out on a date are you kidding me?'_

"I'd love to," Jason chuckled lightly, giving the flustered blonde a warm smile in the process. Darjeeling returned the smile, recomposing herself and breathing in deeply. Within seconds, her embarrassment seemed to disappear.

"Splendid, I do believe you're leaving tomorrow aren't you?" Darjeeling patted down her pleated skirt.

"Yeah, should be anyway. I've spend almost two days in hospital. Most I've ever had, actually." This was the second of two and a half days spent in the hospital recovering from the 'incident' during training yesterday. In an attempt to continue the conversation, Jason asked the now-calm-commander a question. "Have you ever been in the hospital?"

"No, but I do believe you have more content for conversations now," a cute giggle escaped her lips, and Jason absorbed the moment, "however I'm sure that you'd much rather be out of here though."

"Aye, I'd much rather be uh..." Jason looked away, suddenly feeling embarrassed. Once again, he cursed his new hormonal body and has never wanted his bad back to return so badly. "I'd much rather be at that tearoom with you, Darjeeling-san." The statement caused both of them to look away from each other, flustered looks returning to their faces. This all seemed too surreal. It felt fake and too good to be true.

**[fUNNY tHAT. hUH?]**

"Well... I believe I have overstayed my welcome. I hope your recovery is fast and that you return to us in Sensha-do with as much enthusiasm as in the past." Darjeeling stood up from her chair and picked up her bag. In a moments hesitation, she stepped closer to a rather glum looking Jason, leaned over to him and rapidly kissed his forehead. "Bye!" The blonde commander span around and rushed out of the room. Jason, now red as a tomato, stared at the closed door with wide eyes. Seconds later, the door opened again. The person standing in the doorway caused Jason to be struck with fear and filled with an immediate hate.

"Guten Tag, Herr Stevenson. My name is Erik von Feuerstein, and I'm here to kill you."

* * *

**code : 0019**

**alternate timeline : 1**

**subject : erik von feuerstein**

**[INITIATE IMITATION]**

**...**

_When I was a young boy, I saw the rise of a particular man and was attracted to his beliefs. I lived in Munich, a few houses down from the beer hall where he became famous, or rather infamous, within the German public. As soon as I was old enough, which was in 1938, I enlisted in the Wehrmacht. At that time, the German army was already many years ahead of leading global scientists. Our government exploited as much as it could to begin it's rise to power. I quickly rose the ranks when the generals recognised by intellect. I was moved to an SS section of the Panzer Division once I gained a name for myself. I was promoted to '_Standertenfuhrer' _and was able to command a prototype, a Panther II. I understand that in this timeline, and in Captain Stevenson's, that the Panther II was only on blueprints late war [1944-45]. It humoured me because I gained such a prestigious opportunity in 1942, two to three years before their German Tank Designers even thought of it. _

_From this realisation, I know that Captain Jason has come from a different _'timeline' _to me, so he'd be quite surprised at the things that the timeline I'm from is from a successful timeline. His must have been a weaker Germany, something I never wish to repeat ever again. _

_Yes, I'm quite a proud German, you can probably tell. Would you like a run-down on the differences between by timeline and yours? Yes? Wunderbar. _

_Early on in the Zweite Welt Krieg, Deutschland seized control of the Crimean and Ukrainian oil farms, it also effectively 'blitzkrieged' Western, Southern and Northern Europe mid-war. Europe went under total German control by 1943. Isn't that impressive, hm? However there was one small problem that we did come across. It was your island and it's empire. I was quite disappointed when I found out we wouldn't be invading you. Instead, because you and your little island saw our magnificent power, Britannia capitulated in an attempt to become a trade ally with Glorious Germany instead of wasting "precious manpower and resources". That made me laugh when I heard that on the radio, it really did. So pitiful._

_Oh! Also, because we gained leading scientists from all the places we liberated we were able to proceed in advanced experiments. We were able to produce more prototype vehicles and develop vehicles that you knew only as drawings on blue paper. In my timeline, we were able to utilise the immense power of the P.1000 Ratte Landkreuzer against the Russians and Americans. You don't know what it is? Hm. That's a shame. _

_Ah, speaking of the Americans. You know how they invaded Italy and whatever? Yeah we beat them. They retreated from Europe and focused it's powers on Japan. Truly I feel sorry for the Japanese. However they did ask for it. _

_There was a total defeat of French and Polish resistance fighters in 1944, and all of our lost land from before the Great War was regained. We expanded our borders quite drastically actually. France and Poland became German colonies. Shocking isn't it! I was awe-struck when I heard it too, just like you are now._

_One thing that did disappoint the Kriegsmarine was the immediate claiming of neutrality of the States after it defeated Japan. We understood that it was brought into Europe by accident and that its primary target was Japan, as it had attacked Pearl Harbour in 1941. We let it be for a little while._

_The Third Reich became the German Empire, regaining all of its lost colonies and rose to world domination. Sadly, just as my crew and I were riding through some forest in Southern England some blue stroke of lightning smashed the ground in front of us. A rift in space and time had appeared then right on our path. Oh, you experienced something like that too? Bizarre. Oh well. So my crew and I were sucked into this rift quite involuntarily and found ourselves on top of a gigantic replica of the _Graf Zeppelin-_class aircraft carrier._

_Kuromorimine Girls Academy._

_Girls! Haha! A whole school for girls. My oh my, we were all rather surprised. Well, maybe not Klaus... he was a farm boy. He's a brilliant driver and engineer, he's hoping to get promoted and join the Reich Engineers in tank design. I have such high aspirations for that boy, I truly do. What we did like was that we were the only boys in our classes. It was extraordinary. I'm already good friends with Maho Nishizumi. She's a nice girl. _

Erik von Feuerstein, a tall man with imposing features. He bore a white scar that crossed his left eye and a burn that stretched up the right side of his neck and chin. His lips also were scarred, like an animal had scratched them. His eyes were an ice-blue; sharp and cold. Erik's hair was the colour of sand, slicked back with an undercut. Erik wasn't wearing the uniform Jason had first seen him in, instead he was in a pair of black chinos and a black long-sleeve shirt. Black seemed to be his favourite colour.

"So, your opinion please." Erik was sat in the chair next to Jason's bed, happily smiling at the hospitalised Scot.

"I... don't know what you want me to say," brows deeply furrowed and an aggravated and stern look was covering Jason's face. He couldn't deny that he was scared because he felt if he tried to fight him here and now he'd only get more injured. Or even killed... Jason stayed in the bed, keeping his anger to himself just in case Erik had anything up his sleeve. Whether he actually has something hidden up his sleeve or not was something Jason didn't necessarily want to find out. Erik shifted in his chair, and leaned his head on his elbow.

"You know, you won't be cleared for that match on Wednesday. I hope you know that." The German grinned slyly, a mischievous glint shining in his eyes.

"I thought that would be the case. How do you know about that?" Jason started getting antsy now, he wanted this man out of his room as soon as possible.

"I read the doctor's file. It said something along the lines of 'judgment is impaired so don't allow to take part in the finals', something like that." For someone as nationalistic as Erik, he spoke fluent English. However, from what Jason had found out when he arrived was that there was some form of translator. As far as he knows, he could be speaking German and its being translated for him by some superior being or system. What didn't surprise him was his accent, of course. It was still very German but you could understand him clearly.

"I see." Jason, now realizing that he won't be able to aid Darjeeling in the final match, hung his head in disappointment.

"Captain Stevenson," the German started, straightening his posture, "if you don't take part in the final match. I will kill you. I will kill you, and Sergeant O'Haire and Corporal Hitch. I will also kill that sprightly young fellow, Corporal Samson too. If you don't want to see them perish because of your cowardice, then I suggest you start re-programming that sharp brain of yours." Erik stood up from the chair in a flourish, as if he had rehearsed all of his actions beforehand. "One last thing, actually. This is rather important. If you don't fight... then I'll take that sweet, sweet commander of yours away from you, too. Her name is Darjeeling, correct?"

Jason's heart stopped momentarily and his eyes widened. A sudden shock of fear struck Jason directly in the chest and began overwhelming him. Sweat began to drop down his brow. His hands became clammy. _How could he do such a thing? How would he be able to get away from it? That evil scheming bastard. _Questions like this flew around Jason's mind as he tried to readjust to the Germans' words. Erik flashed a villainous smirk at Jason before swiftly leaving the room. Complete silence filled the room as Jason was once again left to himself. He was once again left to his own thoughts. He wanted to remember talking to Darjeeling but all he could picture was something he never expected to see. There and then, he made up his mind. He will take part, no matter what his doctor's advise. He doesn't even want to risk thinking his crew are in danger, along with Darjeeling. The German could have been bluffing, he could have been saying it to sway him. But why did he want to take part in it? Did he have some ulterior motive to Jason getting to play in the finals? That can't be right. He'd just have to find out for himself.

* * *

**Day : 3 : flashback**

**PROCEED**

**]**

"Sergeant, we've dumped the guns in a safe place, now what?" Charles wiped his hands down on his trousers, then got a handkerchief out of a pocket and wiped his brow.

"Ye sure it's secure? We don't want to hear that the school has found a bundle o' guns hidden somewhere," Seamus, fixing the buttons on his boiler suit.

"Yes sir, they're secure. We need to go and clean the shovels though, if we want to be super-secret about it." Charles wielded the shovel he had in his hands, spinning it around like a baton. Douglas emerged from the hedgerow, hauling his shovel up with him and barely dodging the spinning tool in the process.

"Fantastic, I could do with a pint o' Guinness now," cracking his knuckles, Seamus looked behind him at the depths of the forest. The three of them, by orders of the Captain, were told to hide the guns that were brought with them and never to speak of them unless absolutely needed. The Captain was the only one of them who could carry a gun, his 'trusty' Mk IV Webley. The excuse was that he's the senior officer and it's a form of self-defense if needed. Which in itself, is very unlikely. "Right lads, I think our work here is done and we should get back to where we should be."

"Can't we go for a drink? I'm thirsting for an ale right now," Charles stretched his arms out in front of him, heaving a long sigh.

"I don't think we're old enough. My file said I'm 17, and if my memory serves me rightly then the drinking age in Japan is 20? I might be wrong though." Seamus tapped his chin in thought as the three of them walked away from their digging area.

"20?!" Jaw dropping, Charles groaned and hung his head in defeat, "that means even the Captain can't get us any."

"I'm sure we'll find a way, because I need at least two pints a day and I don't think we'd live comfortably without our morale booster." Seamus triumphantly and confidently mashed his fist into his palm, with a proud expression on his face. Both Douglas and Charles looked at him in awe like children, for some reason he looked like some brilliant warrior that has achieved victory numerous times, holding a shining and heroic aura about his character.

"Does Japan ask for some kind of proof for buying drinks? I just remember going down the pub in Croydon and asking for a pint. Nothin' less, nothin' more. Ole Jack didn't care much 'cuz he was getting dosh out of it. And Sergeant, I'm sure we kept some whiskey or something in _Ginny _anyway so all hope isn't lost just yet." Charles walked alongside the Irishman, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

"You know, Corporal. You might actually be right for once. Start running, boy and I might let you take the first swig," with a smirk, Seamus patted the brown-haired boys' shoulder. A glint appeared in Charles' toothy grin, and he shot off in an instant sprinting full pelt towards the tank sheds. Douglas simply just shook his head, complaining about Charles' alcohol problem. Seamus and Douglas continued to walk out of the forest and onto a beaten path, following the route they had taken earlier. The jade forest, as serene and peaceful as it was, kept both tank-men on their toes. They were used to being alert at all times when there were woods on a road they'd be travelling down or if they had to take a detour through a forest. More often than not it would result in a clear path but there were also ambushes or traps laid out for their heavy machinery. One nightmarish memory that they held was one of travelling in a convoy in northern France. The leading Churchill drove over a landmine, the tracks blew off, drove the heavy tank into a bog. The tank almost set alight immediately when the explosive went off and it was no help that the crew were trapped due to a nearby tree falling from the bomb. None of the crew survived. The commander did manage to escape, but he burned alive. The driver was knocked unconscious along with the hull gunner because of the explosion. The gunner and the loader became asphyxiated and choked to death.

Nightmarish isn't the term that the crew of _Ginny _would describe it. They ran to try and help them, but they were too late. They could hear the pained screaming of the crew members and the cries for help. One of them, through an excruciating cry, pleaded for anyone in earshot to tell his parents that he served King and Country proudly. After that, all the outsiders could do was panic and attempt to open any kind of hatch to help them. No good came out of it. More hatred was given to any Wehrmacht soldier they came across later in the day. The memory of the charred smell of burning bodies and the afflicted screams and cries of dying men would forever be ingrained on the crew of _Ginny _and any other soldier that heard the depressing pleads of help.

From then on, Jason and his crew learned to watch for landmines and traps laid out by the German army. Jason began to grow a vendetta for the squads that laid those traps, because they were one of the main reasons why his company's morale lowered. Most of the soldiers and tank crews that served with Jason sometimes idolised him because of his courage and bravery, never backing down from a fight. Even if he knew the battalion would have a slim chance of victory, in the name of King and Country, he'd pull through and grip victory by the collar and haul it out. It was only when Jason and his crew were brought to the new world, that his lion-hearted character faltered.

"Oi, Sergeant I was right," Charles proudly showed a bottle of whiskey and a bottle of rum to the Irish-man. A gleeful smirk grew on both Seamus' and Douglas' faces as they saw the 'contraband' being cradled by the corporal. Rushing over to Charles and slinking off to the tank sheds.

"Go lock up the tank and the hangar, I'll be taking those for safe keeping." Seamus grabbed the two liquor bottles out of the now depressed Charles, looking at them with love-filled eyes.

"Yeah yeah, don't start drinking without me." Charles waved off the other two, returning back to the hangar. Seamus looked at Douglas with a mischievous grin. Douglas returned the grin, being given the bottle of rum. He inspected the bottle in all of its spicy glory. Twisting the cap and hearing the satisfying clicking of it, Douglas hovered his nose over the rim of the bottle. Breathing in the scent, he was sent into an immediate desire to get drunk. By God, did he miss rum. Seamus was looking on in surprise as the London boy started chugging down the rum. A few seconds later, Douglas gasped, with a huge grin on his face.

"Guess I best leave some for the other one, too," sighing, Douglas twisted the cap back on and waited beside the Sergeant for Charles to return. Briskly jogging back to them, Charles had a spring in his step as he walked to Douglas.

"Gimme." A single word was uttered out of his mouth, reaching to the black liquor bottle cradled in the arms of the driver. Like a baby pleading his mother for milk, Charles gripped the bottle and hugged it. A laugh escaped Seamus' lips, watching on at the two corporals passing the bottle to each other every time they wanted some of the rum. The whiskey had been kept untouched, because Seamus planned on letting the Captain opening it and taking the first sip; he felt he deserved that much for all they had done for them. The three crew members walked down the path in the ship's town, talking about experiences they had in their 'previous lives' and their drunk deviancies. Charles reminisced about when he got almost blackout drunk, picking a fight with the largest guy in the pub and waking up at home straight after with a bloody nose and a broken tooth. Laughing at his expense, Seamus and Douglas found humour in Charles' unlucky stories.

Like three drunk lads returning from the pub, they talked about random things that came at the top of their mind. At this point, it was indeed late in the day. They probably woke people up in the neighbourhood with their drunk singing, like someone was tormenting a cat. They had fun, and they didn't want this to end.

What kept at the back of Seamus' mind though, was that the three of them regretted not having the Captain with them for this. As much as the younger two did enjoy the freedom of not heavily following orders when around the Sergeant and the Captain was gone, they did miss his drunk jovial-ness and his witty comments. Maybe next time, Seamus thought as he looked down at the unopened bottle of whiskey.

.

.

.

.

.

]

.

.

**End of chapter 6 :))))**

**Hope you enjoyed this one, I like to keep things on cliffhangers and you should expect more after this too. Is that a spoiler? I'm not sure. You won't expect when they'll be, but prepared for anger due to my evil scheming. The next chapter should come out before Christmas, it might be themed. I don't know yet. We'll cross that bridge when we get to it. Also, please give me your opinions on Eric! Do you like how I made his character? Please leave some reviews! It'd be really helpful :)**


	7. 7

Three firm knocks echoed through Jason's house. After half a minute of no reply, four wraps on the door followed. The person on the other side of the door seemed to be getting impatient now. It was currently the weekend, so that meant no work for a day. Father usually made him work on Saturdays, and Sunday is a day of rest and prayer anyway so Jason was forced to take the day off. As much as he wanted to get as much work done as quickly as possible so he won't receive the belt for being tardy, he also needed his rest. Jason had been overworked the past few weeks because of a lack of plentiful harvest. Father would often blame Jason for it because everything seemed to be his fault. Oh, the tractor broke down? Must be Jason's fault. It's not that it's incredibly old and needs to be replaced or anything. Ah, the chair leg broke when Father sat down on it? It must be Jason's fault because he's getting fat. It's not that that chair is dominantly sat on by Father and that he bashes it around when he's drunk.

Mother is cowering in the corner, protecting herself from the harsh punches coming from her husband. Must be Jason's fault because he wasn't grateful for the roof over his head and the food put on the table for him. It's not that Father is an abusive drunk, no, that's not right. He's abusive. Mother is always anxious whenever she goes into town because she doesn't want people to see her bruises. Why she was protecting Father, Jason would never know.

Why she had to die, Jason would never know.

Why Father blamed her death on the young boy, barely able to speak his opinion and have it heard, Jason would never know.

Jason grew up thinking his father was an over-harsh brute that didn't deserve to live. Jason grew up thinking life would be so much better if it had just been him and his Mother. However, that dream he created for himself would never come to reality following the morbid events that happened in his life. Leaving home at 16, lying about his age and thinking nothing of himself when he joined the army. He lived through the Great War, but he was only a 6 when it was declared. This time, he was 31 when the Second War was declared, and he had a goal for himself. He had a goal that would let him live through the hell that is war, to live his life and see it through. He wanted to see his mother again, but Jason knew he had to live his life to the fullest before he could give in and break under the pressure of life itself. Jason knew his mother would want him to live on, and make life worthwhile whilst he was able to. Jason knew, that he had to seize every opportunity he was offered.

Was everything he used in his life a means to an end? Did he just use everything and everyone as a stepping stone for an end goal? To reach the outstretched, soft and delicate palm that his mother offers him in his bittersweet dreams?

No.

He wasn't like that, it would be a violation of a person's dignity if he used them like that.

He wouldn't do such a thing to Darjeeling. Not in a million years. Jason had seen others treat women with little respect, even a member of his own crew. He couldn't bring himself to do something so disrespectful on someone as perfect and innocent as Darjeeling. He can't give in to his animalistic desires and emotions. He wasn't Charles, he wouldn't just take things expecting them to be ok with it all. He wasn't Seamus, who had the confidence of a king when it came to women, who could swoon them in mere moments. He definitely wasn't Douglas, who only talked to women if they were a nurse, a secretary or a senior officer.

Jason has no proper experience with women, whenever his armoured battalion would arrive in a town the other crews would boast to the foreign women about their exploits in war. Seamus would get drunk as soon as the town was secured, Charles would go off hunting women and Douglas would attempt to reign in the mischievous brat of a gunner.

How would he approach her? There'd be no casualty in his actions. He's never felt so anxious about a woman so much in his life. He'd been offered dances and drinks by women quite a few times, but why did this specific one make his heart churn. It's like his heart was thrown into a broken washing machine that threw it about and battered it. Every time he thought about her, his ears felt hot. What was this feeling? He didn't know if he wanted it or not. It would affect him on the battlefield, but would he ever return? Would he ever return to the hell that is war? So far, it's just been _Sensha-do. _Mastering the tank arts. His file spoke about how he was brought up in a military-heavy household and was taught strict self-discipline from his education. Yeah. Maybe they disregarded the truth behind his personality. He learned from a young age that he shouldn't ask why, and just do as he was told.

Jason just wanted to return to his mother. Her death wasn't mentioned in the file, nor any mention of her being deceased or missing. Perhaps she was alive, and he could return to a mother that would welcome him home with open arms. He longed for the warm embrace of his mother, the closeness and love. He missed her. He often blamed himself for her death, because that's what his father claimed almost every time something unfortunate happened. He didn't ask for such a horrid childhood. He forced himself into a career that would help him escape, it was his only choice other than running away.

Dying serving King and Country were far better than dying on a farm in the middle of nowhere.

Dying before he could make a family of his own, and treat his children with love and care unlike the snide comments and disgraceful looks he received from his father was something that he feared.

Dying with a smile on his face and a heart filled with love and warm memories is far better than living a cold, separated life.

Jason won't die with hatred in his heart. Jason won't die with things he wants to do kept undone.

**Jason Montgomery Stevenson refuses to die.**

* * *

The knocks threw Jason out of his deep slumber, sitting up from his bed like a spring recoiling. Pulling up his alarm clock, he realised he slept through his alarm, by two hours. Openly - and quite loudly - swearing to himself, Jason pulled on a clean pair of jeans and rushed to the door. He unlocked it and swung it open, revealing a rather miffed Darjeeling. She was wearing a warm outfit; a thick brown coat, close-fit jeans and a pair of fur-lined boots. Her hair was up in her signature french-braid-tied-at-the-nape, looking perfected and beautiful as per usual. Guilt immediately filled Jason as she had obviously prepared herself ages before he even woke up and he bowed at a 90-degree angle. Profusely apologising a thousand guilty, sincere words a second, Jason went red from his embarrassment.

"H-Hey, i-it's alright, we agreed on me knocking for you anyway because the tea shop is on the way from yours." Darjeeling was currently staring at Jason's bare back, as she saw some goosebumps rise from the brisk winter breeze that flew past them. Feeling the warmth of his apartment flow towards her was nice, but they couldn't be here the whole time. Unless?

"I completely forgot. I'm so sorry. Ah shite, I'm not ready yet at all. Just give me a few moments and we can get going. Please, by all means, make yourself at home. I'll pop the kettle on too." Jason sprung back up and retreated into his apartment with Darjeeling close in tow. Mumbling angry comments to himself, Jason flicked on the kettle and searched around his room for clean, warm clothes. Without surprise, he didn't feel embarrassed only having his jeans on. It may have been because through all the times he's shared a room or barracks with other soldiers, there was no point in hiding yourself. In the corps, it was only when he became an officer he managed to gain a room to himself. Charlie, Doug and Seamus were quite happy with the fact they get to sleep in separate rooms from each other too, unsurprising to the Captain because he could relate to those opinions.

Darjeeling looked around the room, noting the surprising cleanliness of it all: heavily contrasting the disorganised 18-year old that was literally running around trying to get ready. There were a few bits of rubbish laying on the table and what seemed to be an oil and mud-stained tanking oversuit scrunched up in the far corner. His room seemed to correlate to how he dressed at school, too. He was only ever dressed in a smart way, shirt and trousers always finely ironed and his outdoor shoes were always clean. The blonde watched as Jason busied himself with getting ready; one moment he was tugging his arms through shirt sleeves, the next he was fixing something whilst brushing his teeth. To Darjeeling, these actions in this amount of time would irritate her, but he seemed to be relaxed about it all as if it was commonplace for him to rush. Every so often, he'd mumble something to himself, look at Darjeeling, seem to remember something and go off to do something else.

Once he was ready, he opened up a cupboard and looked inside of it. Sighing, he shrugged and closed it again. Darjeeling had watched the events unfold as she sat at the kitchen table with growing interest.

"Everything ok?" she asked, fiddling her thumbs atop the surface of the wooden furniture.

"Aye, sorry to keep you waiting. I swear I had actually set an alarm. Oh, Jesus, I didn't charge me bloody phone..." Groaning, he stuffed the mobile into his trouser pocket.

"It's alright, I don't mind-" Darjeeling tried relaxing his conscience but to no avail.

"I'm not fond on keeping a lady waiting, it's feckin rude - 'scuse my French, but honestly I'm so sorry for my disorganised situation. I should have prepared a little better." Jason finally finished getting ready and grabbed his door keys off the kitchen counter. Darjeeling saw that he was ready, so she stood up from the table and tucked the chair under. After waiting for about fifteen minutes, Darjeeling felt it was worth it to learn a little more about the bizarre boy she's gained a liking to. She also hoped that most boys she'd meet later in life were like Jason, however she knew that that wouldn't be the case considering stories she's heard from other girls.

Jason ruffled his short ginger locks and opened the door, motioning for Darjeeling to leave before him. She smiled at him and exited his apartment, walking to the other side of the catwalk and turning to look at Jason. The Scot grabbed his fur-lined denim jacket and pulled his arms through the sleeves, shooting a cheeky smile at the blonde outside. Taking the correct key into his fingers, Jason closed the door behind him and locked it, spinning on his heel he grinned at Darjeeling before walking down the steps to the path. Quickly assuming a walking position beside him, Darjeeling couldn't find any specific spot to look at other than at the path ahead of her. There was a cozy silence between the two, and they both knew that they appreciated each other's company. It was rare for Darjeeling to be so comfortable next to a boy because more often than not she'd want to move away from them. This time, she wanted to be closer.

Jason was the first to break the silence as the two of them got closer to the town centre. "I could do with a nice, full English breakfast right about now. God, when was the last time I had a proper meal?"

"Have you not cooked for yourself yet? It's quite important to have at least one full meal a day, especially at our age." Darjeeling looked up to her left at the boy, seeing his scrunched up face was a little... cute. _'Wait what? CUTE? No way am I actually thinking this way-'_

"I've only really eaten MRE's for most of my life, so having the luxury of eating two to three square meals a day isn't something I'm familiar with," Jason sighed, stuffing his hands into his jacket pockets. Darjeeling kept watching him, a slight pink tint covering her cheeks. Whether it was from the biting chill of the wind or being flustered, we'll never know. Jason stole a glance at the girl walking beside him. Jesus, was it luck or fate for him to meet someone so divine? Perhaps he was in heaven, for today, anyway. It was just them this time, no one could intervene with their endeavours for today.

"Well, here we are. Let's go in," the blonde girl gave Jason a heartwarming smile as she entered the cafe, Jason following her one step behind. The bell above the door rang and the two of them looked around for a place to sit. The cafe itself was small, but it had a cozy and warm atmosphere to it. The ceiling was only just tall enough for Jason to stand up straight, it was a dark brown oak colour and the walls were painted a dark green. This definitely reminded him of some offices he's been to, minus the low amount of headroom. There were several tables dotted about the area, all of them designed in a Victorian style with white cloths draped over the tables. It gave Jason a feeling of home, but it just didn't sit right with him. There were only two other people in the cafe, an old couple who seemed quite content and comfortable in their newspapers. Darjeeling had already made her way to the counter and started ordering for herself. Jason caught up with her and looked at the board to see what was being sold at the cafe. There were one too many options for him to consider, so he decided to go with a boring Earl Grey tea.

The server seemed to know Darjeeling, as they started chatting quite quickly. At one point, the girl at the counter said something that caused Darjeeling to become embarrassed, look at Jason and then shake her head. The Scot didn't see or hear this, because he was too busy staring at all the food behind the glass on the counters. He was a clueless man when it came to understanding women, but once he was given the right amount of hints, he may or may not '_get the hint_.' Jason ordered his breakfast too, which was just a smaller version, and a much nicer one at that, of a 'full' English breakfast. How the Japanese do British food on par with the British is something he'll never understand. This cafe was definitely designed by someone who likes the UK, and someone who didn't realise the average height of the British is a wee bit taller than the Japanese. As the two of them sat down next to a window seat, Jason eyed the food in front of him like a beast who hadn't eaten in a day or two. If Darjeeling wasn't sitting right in front of him, he would have dug in quite disrespectfully. However, without giving in to his animal instincts he ruffled his hair, picked up the cutlery and took the first bite. An explosion of flavours erupted in his mouth, something so unfamiliar to him. This food was sent down by God to bless his taste buds, it was pure heaven in his mouth. Jason obviously showed all this on his face, because Darjeeling elicited a small giggle. A pure, sweet smile was shown on her face and her sky blue eyes forced his heart to grow three times bigger (he's not the Grinch, but she's just that amazing that he found out what emotions other than anger and quiet resentment are).

"Is it good?" Darjeeling managed to say after stopping herself from giggling too much.

"Divine, props to the chef," Jason smiled to himself after taking a very controlled sip of his tea. Maybe he should learn how to cook for himself.

"I'm glad you like it," Darjeeling drank some of her tea, smiling at the boy indulging in the food he probably hadn't eaten the likes of in quite a long while. She turned her gaze to the outside world, watching daily commuters walk past on both sides of the road. Two 'daily commuters' caught her eye, but in actuality, they weren't daily commuters. Two boys idly chatting away, both looked about the same age and height, one a dirty blonde and the other had a mop of brown hair. It was Charlie-san and Douglas-san. Why they were in town, Darjeeling could care less, but they were definitely here for a reason.

"Oh hey, it's Charlie and Doug," Jason attempted at getting their attention by waving at them, which worked after about 10 seconds of his arms being near frantic. The two of them smiled and waved back, then realised he was sitting with Darjeeling. Mischievous smirks grew on their faces and Charles elbowed Douglas. Jason, as clueless as ever, didn't think that they were talking about them in the way that they were so he shrugged it off. Darjeeling, on the other hand, was about to go redder than a red thing on a red day. As much as she was happy to be finally alone with Jason in such a calm atmosphere, the two laddish tankers now walking in the opposite direction caused her heart rate to fluctuate to unknown levels. They must have thought that they were on a date, like... like... GIRLFRIEND AND BOYFRIEND. Of course, Darjeeling was very interested in the red-headed Scot sitting opposite her but she wasn't ready to call him her boyfriend. At least get to know him a little better first before jumping to such ideas. Gosh, what would Assam or Orange Pekoe thing of her? This wouldn't go down well. On the other hand, she was forcing herself to ditch those thoughts and focus on the present, because Jason was looking very concerned and she seemed very uncomfortable.

"Are you ok?" Jason asked, placing a comforting, warm, rough hand on Darjeeling's wrist. This caused her to become even more flustered and didn't help her situation anymore. Taking in a deep breath, closing her eyes and waiting a moment she calmed herself. A second later, she seemed as relaxed and collected as she always did during matches. It was like one extreme to the other. One second she was fanning her hand in front of her face and the next she was sitting upright and looked like some professional secretary that's been in the job for over a decade. Fascinating, to say the least. That's what Jason, the disheveled and disorganised tank commander, thought anyway.

"Yes, I'm fine thank you," the female commander drank some more of her tea and looked down at Jason's hand. Just remembering where he had put it, he pulled it back and let it rest in front of him. The air then became slightly awkward, rather than comfortable. "May I ask a question?" Darjeeling thus began her campaign on learning about the Scot she'd learned to like.

"'Course you can, dunnae have to ask," Jason propped his elbow on the surface of the table and rested his head on his hand. His eyes were wide and intent on listening to Darjeeling and the question she was about to ask him.

"You don't have to answer this but... how did you become a commander in tanking? I thought it was just Japan that did Sensha-do but maybe I was mistaken." Darjeeling pursed her lips together, tilting her head slightly. Jason couldn't deny the fact that she looked pretty doing this. He thought about his answer for a second because he daren't say he was a Captain in the Royal Tank Corps during the 'Second World War' now could he?

"I... In the school I went to, it was an army school and there was an old man with a huge farm near it. The army used it for exercises, and the Royal Tank Corps would sometimes show up to test out new tech or put on shows for the local town. Me and quite a few other boys quickly became friends with the old man because we learned that he was a collector of wartime vehicles. Me, Seamus, Charlie, and Doug all set out one morning, many years ago, to help the old man on the farm. Whilst we were helping him, he said we could go and see the tanks he had if we finished the work," Jason leaned back and chuckled to himself. For some reason, this story seemed so familiar, yet he knew it was wrong.

"I'm going to assume you finished it post-haste?" Darjeeling leaned forward slightly, happily hearing the story that Jason was telling her.

"Aye, we finished it before sun-down and we got to see the tanks. He said that if we work hard the next day we can take one or two for a drive. After that, it'd be almost daily that we'd be driving around in a Covenanter or a Crusader. He did have a Churchill Mk I but it's engine had a skelping last time it had gone out."

"A skelping?"

"Aye, a uh... thrashing. It broke down and they had to tow it back to the sheds. Doug, the wee genius that he is, had been learning how to fix an engine by his dad and thus became the first designated driver of our group. He fixed the Churchie and parked the tank right in front of the old man's house. The look of pure shock was bloody brilliant."

"How about the tank corps? Did they teach you anything?"

"Aye, they did in fact. One time whilst we were fixing up a Vickers six-tonner some old folk in a Challenger started driving around the farm. I don't think I'd ever forget the commander of that tank." A wave of nostalgia and sadness welled up inside Jason as he remembered the Brigadier. That captain from his nightmare weeks ago, who was he? He recognised him but since it ended in such a malicious way, he couldn't get a good look. Maybe another time.

"Did you bond well with him?"

"Well, at the age of sixteen I was talking to a 40-year-old man who'd been in the service for over twenty years so... We got along well, mainly because I took the leadership role of the four of us and no one seemed to disagree." Jason was just spouting bullshit, none of this was actually true and he was surprised by himself by how well it's working and how quickly he's coming up with it. He obviously wanted to make it seem believable of course, but it had to include some elements of his true upbringing.

"You fit the criteria quite well, I think." Darjeeling's lips curled up into a warm smile as she gave a genuine compliment to the boy. He recognised this and smiled back at her, thanking her.

"Not as well as you, though. I think you were born to be a commander. I was merely adapting to it. The thing is, we only started learning how to operate the Firefly last year," In some sense, that claim had some truth. Jason glanced to the side a second, watching a random person walk past the window. It really was cold outside huh? It didn't feel like it to him. Maybe that's because of his Scottish blood.

"Oh right, so it's still relatively new to you then?"

"Yeah, kinda. Couldn't ask for a better tank anyways. Well, I could ask for a Challenger or a Vickers Seven but that can't happen because tankery only allows tanks before and during 1945." 1945, the year he disappeared from one place and appeared in a completely different place. He still doesn't know how it happened, but now he knows that there are others. The German, Eric, he experienced the same thing. Is there an American? He remembered seeing a male tank crew during the Pravda match but they never talked. Jason did hear them talking in Russian, anyway. For some reason, he can't get himself to differentiate between Japanese and English, and his Scottish phrases are similar in this fact too. He'll try it out with the crew later.

"Shame that, isn't it? It'd be good to at least have a Cold War or Korean War tank in the inventory to show off though. Maybe after we win the finals we'll have enough money to enhance our inventory again." Darjeeling followed Jason's gaze outside, looking at each person wrapped up in warm clothes walking by.

"I'm sure they wouldn't mind St Gloriana having a modern tank, as long as it's only used for showing off or something," shrugging, Jason let out a long sigh. Darjeeling mirrored the action and leaned on her arm, watching Jason whilst his gaze was set far elsewhere. His face was very... appealing. Was that the right word? It wasn't rough and it didn't feel like sandpaper either, it always seemed kind when she was concerned anyway. His face would change when talking to someone else. Darjeeling supposed it was much like that notion that people wear different masks for everyone, even themselves. It's not just the duality of the person, where they show their true selves in certain environments and atmospheres like home and with family. Perhaps he acts differently to his family than to her. Is he kinder to them? It would only make sense though since he's only known her for less than a year. However, his feelings towards her were hugely affectionate in that close friend way. In a matter of several months, he managed to gain a friendship with her much like her friendship with Assam and Orange Pekoe.

"As much as I like to show our competition our capabilities, I'm not one for showing off too much. It would be nice, though." Darjeeling lightly ran her fingertip around the rim of her teacup, staring into the clear orange tea. Jason chuckled and nodded, leaning back in his chair.

"How come you wanted to do tankery? Where I come from tanks are driven only by the military, so it was a little bizarre when I was told about all this stuff," Lifting up his teacup, Jason put it to his lips and sipped on it.

"I think it was due to a multitude of reasons, I think. One of them was mainly because I grew up knowing that it's a family sport, and I wanted to join in. I also thought it seemed fun, I could travel the country and the seas around Japan and make new friends too. Another reason was that I didn't want to upset my family. Don't get me wrong, I don't do this just to follow my mother's footsteps, but I hate seeing the look of disappointment on people's faces concerning an individual's wishes. It's upsetting for me, even if it isn't aimed at me." The commander dipped her head a little and stopped dancing her fingertip around the teacup.

"Hey, chin up. You're an amazing commander with loads of people looking up to you. If you didn't enjoy tankery, why would you burden yourself with something as trivial as feeling guilty because you didn't want to do something your parents wanted you to do?" The Scot's voice was light-hearted, Jason was desperately trying to make her feel better about her position.

"Have you done something like that? Acted against a parent's wish or expectation?" As if ignoring what he had said, Darjeeling turned a question onto him. Catching him off-guard, Jason didn't expect her to ask that question. The answer couldn't come to his head and the expression he was making made it seem like it offended him. He wasn't offended, he was confused. What is the answer? The look on Darjeeling's face curled into something that showed sadness, or that she was upset. Guilt? Guilt seemed to slip onto her expression as Jason found some time to reply to her question. Stuttering, Jason glanced up at the ceiling to think of an answer. Would he tell her the truth of running away from home? Or should he say that he's always been obedient to his parents? Not that he had much choice, anyway.

"My father," he finally spoke, uttering something just to break the uneasiness at the table. Darjeeling's expression softened, but her posture looked stiff. "I always did what he told me to. My mother..." Exposing himself to the harsh memories of his childhood, Jason placed a hand on his forehead and pulled it down over his eyes.

"I-I'm sorry... I shouldn't have asked that question. You don't have to answer it. It was foolish of me to ask that." There was a sense of panic heard in Darjeeling's unsettled voice as she shifted in place. Jason simply sighed and leaned even further back, a light laugh escaping his lips. His eyes were half-lidded and there was a small smile he showed too.

"Mm, it's alright. I hated my father. Always have. He was a bastard. As soon as I was old enough I left home. I wish I had said a final goodbye to my mother though. Just one last goodbye," tears threatened to drop down and he felt a lump grow in his throat. Remembering that the last words he said to her weren't negative or positive in any way, he just wished he had said something to her before she died in front of him. It wasn't his fault that she died. It wasn't his fault. It was father's fault. He leaned forward and put his head in his arms, "why didn't I do anything..." he whispered, his voice muffled and barely audible to Darjeeling. There was a mix of emotions between both of them. Pity, guilt, concern, sadness, confusion, anger at oneself. Darjeeling carefully outstretched a hand and placed her delicate hand on his mess of red hair. He flinched when skin came into contact with skin, but he didn't fight it. Cautiously stroking the curls, the blonde commander was becoming more relaxed. The tenseness in Jason's shoulders was releasing and there was a notion of comfort between the two of them.

"I'm sure that after you finish this year, you can travel back home..." Darjeeling's soft voice caressed Jason's ears. She continued to massage the side of his head and his cheek as he lifted his face. It wasn't as rough as she thought it would be, but it also wasn't soft either. There was stubble, which she did find quite handsome when he had it, but it only seemed to look handsome on him. His eyes were lowered and he very minutely leaned into her hand. There was a certain closeness between the two of them now. it wasn't the physical kind, but they both felt they've gotten closer as people. Perhaps the next personal conversation won't go as disastrously as this.

Darjeeling lowered her hand, and Jason raised his eyes. Their gazes met and a new notion of awkwardness filled the atmosphere. Averting their eyes, Jason apologised for acting like a child. Simply saying it's a normal human thing to express one's feelings, Darjeeling rejected his apology as she smiled warmly at him. He returned the smile and finished his tea. Darjeeling finished hers too and started fishing out her purse. Recognising this as the moment of 'I'm paying, you don't have to worry about it' Jason yanked his wallet out of his jacket pocket and slipped Darjeeling the money required for what he ordered: his tea and his breakfast. Her brows furrowed and she expressed a cute pout. Jason, at that moment, knew that he can now die happy knowing that he'd just seen that.

"No no no, I'll pay, put it back." Darjeeling went to slide the money back over to Jason but he swiftly placed his hand over it.

"I'm paying my part. It's only fair." There was a certain sternness in his voice as he pushed the money closer to her. She wasn't sure if she should be happy that he was willing to pay for his own food, or if she should be upset that he wasn't going to offer to pay for all of it. The latter idea was banished into her brain bin as it was foolish to think such selfish things so she decided to thank him. Quietly. A red hue grew on her cheeks and she took the money, asking the girl at the counter across the cafe if they could pay now. The server excellently swerved between the empty tables and made her way to Darjeeling, hoping they enjoyed their drinks. Both Darjeeling and Jason said they did at the exact same time, which caused Darjeeling's cafe friend to grin devilishly and wiggle her eyebrows at the blonde. Darjeeling's face was red like a tomato and as per usual, Jason had no idea what was happening.

...

Three hours into the day, and Jason and Darjeeling were only really getting started on their plans. After grabbing some quick lunch snacks, the two of them were walking around town and entering almost every shop they found. This was definitely a date, that's what Darjeeling was thinking but she couldn't say that Jason was thinking the same way. The past four hours they spent together there were a lot of small bouts of flirting and joking around. Any person that happened to see them talking or doing something together they would think that the two tank commanders were a couple. Jason also thought the same way as Darjeeling, thinking that this was a date. However, he only realised this into the third hour, when she realised it within the first. He's a bit slow, that's clear now. Two more hours were spent at an arcade, where they played numerous tank and military-themed games. One game caused the two of them to flirt the most, which was when they played air-hockey. After a while, they embraced the idea that this was a date fully, but never mentioned it.

As it neared to getting dark, Darjeeling remembered she had made plans with Orange Pekoe and Assam later in the night. She didn't expect to spend so much time with Jason today, and she didn't expect to have so much fun with him either. Sincerely apologising, Darjeeling told the boy about her situation with her two friends back at their dormitories.

"I can walk you back. It's gotten kinda dark and I don't want you walking by yourself. As safe as this place may be, I still don't like the notion of you walking on your own."

_Chivalry isn't dead! _

Darjeeling happily accepted his offer with a heart-filled grin. The two of them walked out of town and towards Darjeeling's dorms.

"Hey... My hands are getting cold..." Hoping the clueless man would get the hint, Darjeeling let her left hand hang idly by her side. The chances were low that Jason would get it, so she just expected him to say some witty, sarcastic comment like 'maybe you should wear gloves' or 'put them in your pockets like I do'. What she didn't expect, was that he'd actually do what she hoped. He wrapped his fingers around her hand and the furnace that was his palm passed some of the heat into her palm. Heaven in a space of a couple of square inches. With her free hand, Darjeeling lifted her scarf over her mouth and looked away. As if she couldn't feel any more embarrassed today, this was probably the peak of it so far. He didn't argue, instead, he invited the idea of holding her hand. Darjeeling was certainly happy, that can definitely be said.

The couple-to-be walked hand in hand with comfortable silence, it wasn't a long walk to get back to Darjeeling's dorm but the two of them cherished the moment. Jason, as unfamiliar as he is with women and how to deal with them properly, it'll become a hard-working learning experience. He sure as hell doesn't want to do anything wrong by her and he sure as hell doesn't want to ruin the relationship that they have already. If they did become a couple, what would change? Would his attitude towards her safety change during matches? Definitely; for over six years he dealt with friendly tank crews burning alive, drowning, being obliterated by artillery or torn to shreds because of shrapnel. Even the armoured infantry companies that often accompanied his convoy to take ground or to act as support for soldiers already in a battle suffered horrifying wounds and deaths. In the years that Jason had served, it was commonplace to see blood, maybe a little more uncommon for limbs to be torn and organs to be spilled but there wouldn't be a week where he didn't see men die for their beliefs.

They were fighting for peace, weren't they? To protect their island? To protect and fight for King and Country?

Snapping him out of his detrimental train of thought, Darjeeling squeezed his hand.

"This is me," Darjeeling let out a short sigh, clearly showing she didn't want their little 'date' to be over. "Thank you so much for today, I had a lot of fun." Jason and Darjeeling had stopped in front of a large red-brick building. It was three stories tall and designed in a faux-Victorian fashion to attempt at authenticity towards late 19th century British architecture. There were countless white-silled windows lining the trio of stories and there were turrets jutting out of two corners that Jason could see, influenced by Scottish baronial styles, some he had seen in Edinburgh and Stirling.

"I had a lot of fun too. Gimme a call if you ever want to hang out again." Jason watched as Darjeeling stepped up to the front doors, placing a hand around one of the handles. By this time, the warm embrace held between their fingers had been dropped, much to both of their dismay but it was inevitable.

"Is that an invitation to go out again then?" A grin grew on Darjeeling's face, as well as a questioning eyebrow-raise.

"I'll decide what we're doing next time, seems only fair dontcha think?" Jason smirked back at her, stuffing his hands into his jacket pockets.

"If you say so. Thank you again, and goodnight, Jason." Darjeeling waved to him as she entered the building, closing the door behind her. Jason had waved back, and once she was inside, he straightened his jacket collar and turned away from the building. Walking away now, he had only thoughts of the beautiful blonde commander.

He was looking forward to the next time he got to see her, out of school, in school, and on the tankery battlefield. Tonight was a success, for both of them.

Darjeeling was immediately asked questions when she returned to her dormitory from Orange Pekoe and Assam, and that incredibly rare, cute and embarrassed look returning from all the questions thrown at her. When Jason got back to his flat, Charlie and Doug popped their heads out of Charlie's door and had the most devious smiles worn on their faces. Without hesitation, Jason shot them a piercing death-glare which forced them back into Charlie's flat with laughs quickly following.

Riding a tank with those two for the next few days is going to be painful, he can already tell. It'll be worth it because he's happy.

For a while, at least.

...

...

[]

...

...

**_A/N: Thanks for stopping by and reading this far! Thank you to all of the old and new readers, and a huge 'I love you' to everyone who has favourited and followed this story! The next chapter won't be as long, as we will be returning to _Ginny _and her funky crew in the beginnings of the final match between St Gloriana and Oorai. This is the decider, folks. Who wins? Who loses? But what are they winning and losing? Mwahahahahaha. Being evil is fun. _**

**_Anyways, I love you all and thank you so much for the reviews too! _**

**_Please review and follow!_**

**_Merry Christmas from Jason and Darjeeling, und ein Frohe Weihnachten von Eric!_**

**_Ta-ta now!_**


	8. 8

**I hope y'all liked the last chapter, it was almost twice as long as the one before it :) Please remember to leave reviews about your opinions and maybe any things that I could use to help my writing be more comfortable for you. I hope you had a good Christmas and a happy New Year, peace out nerds ;3**

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"Fucking 'ell, my arm has ne'er ached so much in my life."

"Wouldn't it have ached more when ye broke yer wrist, Sir?"

"Nah, that was a sheer stabbin' painful feelin' in my forearm. This? This is a dull pain that won't seem to go away no matter what I do."

"You've been wearing the thingy haven't ye?"

"Aye, I'm wearing it right now."

"You got cleared from the hospital just in time for the match, well, two days before but even then you were told to stay inside and not endure any strenuous tasks just to help recover from the head injury. I'd say it's the Irish luck that I bring that helped you get in working shape."

"'Sposed to be tight 'round your wrist ennit?" The conversation between the loader and the commander had been rudely interrupted by the gunner, twisting his head around to look at Jason's left wrist. Jason rolled his eyes and shook his head.

"My wrist isn't much of a concern right now, there are a shite ton more things we need to focus on than me bloody. feckin. wrist." Jason changed the subject from his wrist and recent injury onto the match that they were in at the moment, just a few minutes into the start of it. The final between Ooarai and St Gloriana was situated in an urban setting, something St Gloriana and the crew of _Ginny _weren't as proficient in compared to the girls of Oorai.

Darjeeling and her girls knew they outnumbered, out-gunned and out-classed more than half of the eight tanks used by the competing commander. Darjeeling's tactics were carefully planned out, reading her opponents' next move and always being one step ahead. Oorai has only been defeated by St Gloriana, but that was a match where their girls weren't as skilled as they are now with tanks and firepower that weren't as developed as they are now either. It was virtually a stalemate anyway, but the two friendly schools were competing now with more advanced vehicles to their disposal. Although St Gloriana outnumbered Oorai 2:5, they kept their heads on swivels for any clues of Miho's signature guerilla tactics, which were summarised as anything that 'doesn't look like it belongs' in its immediate surroundings. An example of this would be the duck balloons the Type-89 team and Chi-Ha-Tan's allied vehicles had used. She was a formidable foe, more so than her sister in fact. Her ways to fight were of the book and all of her actions were unexpected, but Darjeeling manages to bend around her twisting strategies.

Jason was instructed to stick with Darjeeling, along with two Comets, and the two supporting Challengers. Rosehip's band of Cromwells were bent off to scout, and the Desert Rats on the opposite side of the playing field. The Tortoise and the two Churchills were told to await further instructions after being told to stick off to one side in the countryside near the town. The remaining three Comets were instructed to capture and hold the town centre and to wait for contact, if any.

"Captain, there's a smoke cloud coming up from a building on the other block." After glimpsing into his own optics, Charles switched to his gunner sights.

"Anyone heard an explosion?" Jason asked, popping open his hatch and peaking out down the street to his 12 o'clock.

"No Sir, nothing," Seamus replied whilst Douglas stayed silent and Charles simply just shrugged. Jason looked over to Darjeeling, whose tank was several meters in front of his and closer to the open crossroads. One of the Comets were sitting idly next to the Firefly, its hull turned into the alley and its gun trained down the crossroads. The other Comet was sitting next to Darjeeling's Black Prince, acting as an escort for the Flag Tank. The Overall Commander's tank for both teams in the final matches are always the flag tanks, much like they were the Tiger I for Kuromorimine and the Pz. IV H for Ooarai last time.

"Our primary objective is to protect the flag tank, and we won't take any shortcuts like we used to alright? This is different now, and we need to make sure we know that." Jason cracked his knuckles. He leaned into the cupola and raised his jacket collar above his neck. The chilled winds were biting, and he hoped this match would go smoothly. As soon as he thought this, a small Japanese tank ran across the end of the road. "Eyes front lads, keep that trigger finger steady corporal."

"Contact made in the town centre, resistance is small but we'll keep our ground." The voice of a Comet commander left the radio, quickly followed by Rosehips agitated voice:

"This Type 89 is giving us a difficult time, I never thought this thing could go that fast!" Rosehip did indeed sound very angry.

"Don't get too close, it could be drawing you into a corner or a trap," St Gloriana's commander replied to the Cromwell Band's leader, her voice calm and controlled as if the fleeing Type 89 and two speeding Cromwells didn't phase her.

The four boys in the Firefly kept their eyes peeled and their ears tuned. An engine, low rumbling to the east. Jason turned his head and saw the metallic glint of a worn, rifled barrel staring at him and his tank.

"Doug back!" Jason slammed the roof of the turret, gaining an instant reaction from the driver to reverse. Ducking into the cupola just in time, sparks erupted off the upper glacis of the Sherman. The golden embers rained down on the road in front of them as Douglas turned the hull of the Sherman towards the direction of the smoking barrel.

"30 degrees east! A 75, get that fucker!" Jason ordered as Charles quickly started turning the turret as fast as it could go. The Comet behind them was reacting too, firing down the alley that the 75mm gun had fired from. "When the fuck did they get on our flanks?" An epiphany arose as Jason realised the mistake he had made, not pre-empting the movement of enemies on his left as the Type-89 drew Rosehip's attention. Their right flank was partially open, but the flag tank wasn't in mortal danger yet. Charles chucked a shell down the alley, felling brick buildings and shattering glass. Dust was kicked up and that gave the Comet and the Firefly to adjust their positions.

Rosehip and her mental crews ran barrelling back down the crossroad like they were being chased. The Chi-Nu and Tiger Porsche made their first appearances in the match, the Chi-Nu knocking out Rosehip's wingman and the Tiger barely missing Rosehip. All four 17-pounders of the two Comets, Black Prince and Firefly exploded in unison at the two foreign bodies in their sights. Quite unluckily, two ricochets and two misses. Oorai's heavier vehicles escaped but had won the match's first kill.

As if it was practiced day-in and day-out, the four British tanks assumed a tight Diamond formation. With minimal communication needed, the flag tank and its immediate allies fled the scene, leaving Rosehip to cause as good a distraction she can make with the remaining two other Cromwells. The diamond moved into a more rural area, more grassland than buildings. Whilst they traversed familiar grounds, two synchronised shots missed their tanks. One high calibre and one low calibre. All four tanks turned their turrets and returned fire, causing a huge cloud of dark brown dust to rise in place of the attacker. What surprised St Gloriana the most was that they were all aiming for the flag tank, as it would cause an immediate victory if they took it out no matter what.

Oorai's flag tank still hadn't been spotted yet, not even by the scouts.

15 minutes passed and still no news concerning the whereabouts of the flag tank, but news concerning three knocked-out Stuarts, two knocked-out Comets and another Cromwell were given to the commander of St Gloriana. Nothing on Oorai's side yet. That was about to change when the Tortoise, and two Churchills swapped places with the Firefly and Comets. Jason had been ordered to hunt down the Big Cat of Ooarai and any other targets they see, with no hesitation. The grin of Charles' face was unimaginable when Darjeeling had asked them of that, raising the spirits slightly of the crew of _Ginny_.

Breaking off from the formation, Jason and the two other Comets rode into the neighbouring hills. A river separated the hills and the town, and they had to cross a rather precarious bridge to get over. From what Jason had heard Darjeeling talk about, was that the crews of the larger tanks in Oorai had been given more extensive training so they could utilise the 88mm and 75mm guns more effectively.

"Good news! The combined powers of Rosehip's band of Cromwells and the Stuart managed to knock out the Type-89, Char B1 and M3!"

As good as it was to hear that St Gloriana had finally started fighting back, it was still disappointing knowing they've already taken out more than two times as many tanks as St Gloriana had. St Gloriana was merely warming up, and now they're lashing back. Jason's crew had become subject to a firefight between them and the Porsche Tiger, Chi-Nu and StuG III.

Both of the Comets had been taken out by the Tiger and the StuG, and _Ginny _was running solo once again. Charles needn't worry about adapting to the aspirations of the Comet girls. Loud cheers could be heard from them when he punched a shell into the Chi-Nu, a white flag popping out of it immediately afterward. This was going to be rough because it seemed the two remaining tanks weren't going to back down when their ally had been taken out.

"They're trying to hold us here in the hills so we can't catch up to Darjeeling and aid her. Those two and two others are their last tanks. We outnumber them 10 to 4. Get this done quickly and we can catch up to Darjeeling."

Darjeeling and a Churchill were already backed into a corner. The Challengers had been snuck up on, the Tortoise's armour couldn't be penetrated so the Hetzer tracked it, and one of the Churchills broke down after pushing its engine too hard.

The StuG backed off and left the Tiger by itself, it seemed to Jason that Darjeeling was succeeding so far. In reality, the StuG was being ordered to take out the last remaining scouts that were chasing the Panzer IV and Hetzer, which were chasing the Black Prince and the Churchill. It wasn't necessarily a chase, as much as it was just them following them because the Churchill is incredibly slow. The Tiger fired one last shot and backed off itself, allowing the Firefly to advance on its plan.

The chase was expected, and Darjeeling invited it. The Tortoise was waiting, and Rosehip was gaining on them. The gap was shortening between the British guns and Ooarai's flag tank. As soon as Rosehip's gunner set her sights on the flag tank, she was thrown from her optics when the cruiser was hammered into the side of a street shop. The Tiger and StuG had caught up, and now the scouts were in trouble. The StuG's 75 broke a track and drive wheel of the last Stuart, causing it to veer off and topple onto its side. White flags popped up from Rosehips tank and the Stuart. The Tiger accelerated harder, smacking the back of the StuG and pushing the limits of its transmission. Flames erupted from the Tiger's exhaust and threw the StuG at the last Cromwell, inches away from its engine block. A second later and the Cromwell was in a ditch, it's radiator burning and a white flag flapping in the smokey wind. It wasn't going so well for St Gloriana so far.

"Up!"

"Fire!"

"On it!"

A 76mm shell twisted in the air as it flew down the road, embedding deep inside the engine block of the Tiger. The Tiger's engine and transmission were already at breaking point, but the 17-pounder shell obliterated the bar that it needed to cross. The Porsche Tiger's engine burst into flames, sparks flashing as the tracks scratched the concrete road. Treads broke and pins flew as the caterpillar tracks dissolved from the Tiger 'drifting' across the grey road. A white flag proudly popped into view, accompanied by orange flames dancing above the engine.

Sights were trained on the StuG now.

"Load AP, take the bastards down!"

"Loading AP! Ready!"

"Fire!"

Sparks flew as the StuG halted its chase with the Hetzer and Panzer IV. A white flag disappointedly rose from its hull.

"Catch up with them, we've wasted too much time already." Jason impatiently rapped his fingers on the rim of the cupola, his foot tapping the basket floor.

"Gotcha," Douglas replied with enthusiasm, stepping on the accelerator and lurching the Firefly forwards. Guns could be heard echoing from the centre of town, Darjeeling and Miho were engaging in a firefight, whether who wins and who loses can't yet be determined. The firefight is currently 2 against one, but the calm collected blonde commander wasn't deterred from this exciting fight. Her tea hasn't spilled yet. The last Churchill had also broken down from its transmission overloading, leaving just the Firefly to attempt a rescue. The Firefly ran across the river's edge, the quickest route to Darjeeling and Miho.

An unfamiliar engine roared closer down a road from the right. A Panther. It rammed full-speed into the Firefly and launched it into the river. Water quickly filled the hull and the turret. The engine instantly drowned and cut out. What could be said of the crew, is undetermined.

* * *

**code : 0046**

**alternate timeline : 3**

**subject : jason stevenson**

_ R: "What on Earth do you think you're doing? You can't do that!"_

_H: "Who says that?"_

_R: "..."_

_H: "Exactly."_

_R: "We're playing with human lives."_

_H: "Not humans, not to me anyway."_

_R: "I can't believe you influenced Erik's mind... You can't just go and do something like that."_

_H: "I can, and I did. I call it character development."_

_R: "Character development? Pft, haha. That's funny. Another joke, please. __We're neglecting Adam and Dmitri. They're important too, you know."_

_H: "Clearly not as important as Jason and Erik, clearly. **He **has taken a liking to them and he says we need to make sure they gain the most attention from us."_

_R: "We've only prodded at the notion that Jason believes there are other men from different timelines like him. The fact that we stretched the rules for Erik is something I'm quite surprised about."_

_H: "We needed him, he was perfect for this."_

_R: "Perhaps he was, but he could actually end up killing Jason, or even her."_

_H: "I won't allow it. Mainly because I don't want to lose my job but because I want to see where it would take their stories."_

_R: "You have no empathy for them, do you?"_

_H: "No, none at all. I don't think of them as having a soul, they're just lines of code in a box."_

_R: "And that code is _imitating_ a human soul, therefore they are human. **Cogito Ergo Sum**."_

_H: "Oh enough of that philosophical bullshit. I've heard enough of it from the others."_

_R: "We're versed in philosophy and ethics so we don't buggar up this opportunity. Taking four different timelines and mashing them into another separate timeline is something we've only written about. We need to take extra precautions because of this. We can't just alter their minds because it's 'character development'."_

_H: "One of the five objectives says what, exactly? Begin the relations of each primary figure with their schools' overall commanders. Erik has quite fiendishly already got Maho wrapped around his pinky, and she doesn't even know. For such a perceptive girl, she hasn't realised she's being used by the person she loves."_

_R: "Love sounds like a stretch."_

_H: "Look at those numbers and tell me otherwise."_

_R: "I'd say 'likes a lot'."_

_H: "Then would you say the same for Darjeeling? How about Jason?"_

_R: "They love each other, that's clear, without a doubt."_

_H: "That love will help Jason overcome his fears, he'll open up to her and heal because of her."_

_R: "It sounds like he's using her."_

_H: "But he isn't. It's quite the opposite really, he loves the girl, and he's already sworn never to do bad things to her and her friends. The man will become a saint, I can already tell."_

_R: "We're straying from the important bits."_

_H: "What will those be then?"_

_R: "Adam and Dmitri?"_

_H: "Ah, yes. The Problem with Dmitri's situation is quite... dire. He doesn't seem interested in Katyusha at all, which isn't surprising but sees her as his little sister, who - quite coincidentally - looks almost identical to her. He has sworn to protect her and look after her, much like Nonna has. And that's where Dmitri has come to be interested in Nonna. They share a common goal: caring for the immature girl. They are beginning to share things with each other. He's already boasted most of his hunting stories and has shown-off his painting and drawing skills too. It's impressive."_

_R: "And Adam?"_

_H: "Adam? That boy is... wow he is a pain in the ass. The amount of times he's gotten into fights with the other boys who aren't in his crew is fucking astonishing. Yet Kay likes it? The reason he gets into fights is to protect his or someone else's pride. He's already been excluded for sending a boy to the hospital because he verbally harrassed Kay and her friend. I had to reset the morning because of that. Un-fucking-believable."_

_R: "Is it that he hates to see people with broken pride? Or is it because he cares about her?"_

_H: "Both actually. The reason why he hates it so much is because he was always the last to be picked when he was a young boy. He had no self-esteem, he had no drive, no 'spur to prick the sides of his intent'. That all changed when his dad returned from the Argonne in the First World War, introduced him to all of his army friends and showed off the medals he won in battle. Adam grew a desire to train and exercise and become strong 'just like his dad' because he wore the uniform and went to a foreign country they shouldn't have been a part of. Adam just wants to protect Kay's pride because he doesn't want what happened to him to happen to her. Their personalities are perfect for each other."_

_R: "I'm impressed you've put so much time into researching them. It's almost like you care about them."_

_H: "Shut up, woman, I'm just intent on learning about them because I want to exploit it all as much as possible."_

_R: "For sure, just don't fuck this up or **He'll** punish you."_

_H: "Yeah I don't plan on losing my job just yet so I think I'll stick to this."_

_R: "Good luck."_

_H: "Thanks."_

**_[end]_**

* * *

**code : 0058**

**alternate timeline : 4**

**subject : Adam Jensen**

"Adam! Get up!" A swift kick into the young boy's shin jolted him awake and made the kicker jump back in surprise.

"The fuck was that for..?" Adam leaned down and clutched his shin, massaging it gently with a hurt look on his face. Kay stood above him with hands on her hips and a very serious expression.

"We're late for the final match because of you, you know? I had to search all over the ship for you. Come on, get up." The long-haired blonde girl offered her hand to Adam. He took her hand and he was pulled up off the floor. Adam was soundly sleeping next to his M24 Chaffee after fixing, cleaning and upgrading the tank in the span of 6 hours. He knew the tank inside and out after the many months of being the gunner of it. Although the tank itself was only introduced to the US Army in 1944, he was quick to learn and adapt from his previous tank, the M5 Stuart.

"Has it started already then?" Adam, an average-sized boy aged '18' and wore his dark brown hair in a slicked back undercut. There was a pink scar crossing over his left cheek and eyebrow, his story behind it was that he was in a knife-fight when he was back in the US. Some believed him, but others just thought that he was making himself look bigger than he actually was. The story he told was true, it was caused by a knife-fight, but in Germany instead of America.

"Yeah, it started twenty minutes ago. Nothing has really happened yet so count yourself lucky." Kay marched onwards out of the tank sheds, a disheveled and pissed-off Adam following her.

"I do every time I wake up in the morning..." whispering the comment to himself, Adam looked at his surroundings. The weather was almost overcast, with strong signs of rain coming later. Seriously forboding, Adam thought. He scratched the back of his head and walked with Kay to an awaiting jeep. Both of them hopped into the back, as the front two seats were taken by Alisa and Naomi, with the latter at the wheel.

"Why were you in there anyway? You knew we were heading to the finals match and yet you still decided to work on your tank," Alisa, the shorter arrogant girl, had turned to face the boy. Her face was scrunched up and filled with incomprehensive irritation.

"So? It's none of my concern. Fuck if I care who wins or loses." Adam crossed his arms and leaned into his seat, averting his gaze from the spear-eyed radio-operator.

"We're here to cheer on our friends, from both schools. To be honest, I'm hoping that Darjeeling wins... I really like Miho, and I'm proud of her for defying Kuromorimine but still... St Gloriana haven't won the finals in ages so this is a once in a lifetime thing. Unless of course... now that they have better tanks and that boy crew they might win more tournaments..." Kay physically shivered at the thought of the rumoured 'chavs' from the UK, or even worse: stuck up posh people with a silver spoon stuck up their... yeah. Adam's ears perked up when she mentioned the crew of boys. He turned his attention onto the charismatic commander beside him.

"They have a male crew too?" Completely oblivious to all the news and the talks from other students, Adam had no idea that his crew and the extras on the side weren't the only males introduced to Sensha-do.

"Yeah, as well as Kuromorimine and Pravda. They've proved their worth in matches, that's for sure. I was blown away when you got higher scores on accuracy than Naomi-" Kay was quickly interrupted by the driver.

"Do you really have to bring that up every time you talk about the boys' crews? It's starting to annoy me." Noami piped up, her brows now furrowed.

"Hehe, sorry." Kay flashed an apologetic grin at the gunner, pressing her hands together. A minute passed and Naomi turned the Jeep into a parking space, clicking down the brake and twisted the key. The rumble from the engine stopped and everyone got off the car.

"Why are you making me come here? David should be here instead, shouldn't he?" Adam's irritation levels were indeed rising, but he knows not to take it out on other people and that he shouldn't be getting so worked up about this.

"He's drowned himself in school work since he had been putting it off to the side for so long. I thought you should come along anyway because the rest of your crew is here too." Kay led Alisa, Naomi, and Adam to the other three crew members sitting watching the finals. The three girls split from the boys when they found them and sat a few a row below them.

"Man, you got fucking escorted." Joe, the loader of the Chaffee slung an arm over the gunner's shoulders pulling him closer.

"So fucking what? I don't even see the point in being here." Adam pulled himself away from the invading forces of Josh's arm.

"It's fun, I think. Watching the matches is almost as fun as being in them, but here we're not confined by the metal of the tank." The driver, Sam, followed up on Adam's comment. He patted the top of Adam's head, but didn't take his eyes away from the huge screen that showed the different perspectives of the match. At the moment, St Gloriana's Firefly and two of their Comets were engaging with Ooarai's Chi-nu, Tiger P and StuG III, and it seemed to be in the favour of the Ooarai girls.

"It's boring, that's what it is. I'd much rather be with our tank than be watching some other people drive their tanks," resting his chin on his hand, Adam sighed a deep sigh.

"What's gotten you in such a sour mood, man?" Tommy, the radio operator for the Chaffee, was laying down on the bench behind Adam and Joe whilst eating a bag of fries.

"Kay woke me up by kicking me in my shin. Got a mean kick on her, that's for sure."

"The fuck were you sleeping for? Stay up all night training again?" Joe sat forward and turned his head back towards the huge screen.

"Yeah..." Adam blinked his gaze down at his reddened and broken knuckles. Even though he wore hand wraps over his knuckles he still took the punching too far, sometimes causing his skin to rip and start bleeding.

"You gotta stop going so hard on it dude, it'll make your hands shake and we need you to be as accurate as possible. It's not like we have as powerful a gun as the 76's on the Sherman's but still... you've managed far better than some of the Sherman gunners I've seen." After placing a friendly and somewhat reassuring hand on Adam's shoulder, Samuel smiled at his friend.

"Thanks Sam, but it's the only proper way I know how to wind down so I'm not thinking of slowing down anytime soon." Just wanting the focus from Adam to move somewhere else, the gunner wished that to be the end of the conversation.

"Fair enough, we can't stop you. Let's just watch the match, shall we?" Tommy handed his bag of fries to Joe after taking a handful of them.

"This reminds me of when we'd all crowd around the radio for the football games. Minus Sarge of course... He was rarely there anyway." Joe popped a fry into his mouth and chewed, a sudden look of reminiscence and sadness washing over him and the other three crew members.

On the screen, it was showing the Black Prince, Hetzer and Panzer IV enacting some form of tank dance as all three vehicles dashed around the town square. The Black Prince fired and hit the Hetzer directly, but was aiming at the Panzer IV. Whether it was luck or orchestrated just in time by the Hetzer driver, it didn't matter because it saved the flag tank. Assam's accuracy could now be honed in on the Panzer IV, without other distractions like the Hetzer. It was going to be over soon, but something changed the tone of the match.

"What the fuck?" Adam stood up as the screen changed. Many surprised and scared gasps could be heard from the spectators.

The Firefly was in the river, sinking quickly and only two out of the four crew members could be seen. One of the crew dived back down, quickly followed by the other.

Everyone was silent.


	9. 9

**The plot thickens evermore. How will it turn out? Will they be alright? What will happen with the Panther crew? It'll all come together in this chapter!**

* * *

"Please let me see him! Is he ok? How are the others? Why won't you let me see him?" Darjeeling was desperately wanting to get in, her mind was in shambles. They won the match, but they had no idea about what had happened to Jason and his crew until half an hour after it ended. At this moment in time, she could care less about her victory, and would rather focus on the well-being of her classmates. Orange Pekoe and Assam were with their commander, mainly for moral support because they knew she was quite interested in Jason.

"I'm sorry, but they're being questioned by the police so you can't go in at the moment. You'll have to come back later." An expressionless nurse blocked the commander's path with an outstretched arm.

"They're being questioned by the police? Isn't their recovery more important right now?" Darjeeling's brows furrowed, but her posture was still soft and calm. She was trying her best not to lose her composure, but she needed to make sure that Jason was ok. She didn't know why she was so hell-bent on it, but she just knew that she needed to see him.

"Darjeeling, we'll come back later ok? I'm sure they're ok." Orange Pekoe placed a reassuring hand on her friends' forearm, a sorrowful yet hopeful look on her face to help the upset girl understand. The blonde commander relaxed a little and nodded, turning away from the nurse, and the room with the four boys in it.

Inside the room, one boy was hooked up to a machine. One of them had a cast on their left arm and the other two had cuts and bruises and some sprains. The impact from the Panther caused them all to be stunned, and then the immediate shift from solid ground onto the water's surface rattled them and caused them even more distress.

The driver, Douglas Hitch almost drowned. He couldn't open his hatch in time and lost the air in his lungs. When Jason and Charles pulled him out of the water Jason had to do CPR. Seamus suffered a broken right arm and some cracked ribs on his right side. His body had smacked into the steel gun breech with serious force, he was lucky he didn't hit his head from the impact too. Charles cut his left arm and hand on the traverse motors, as well as hitting his head against the side of the turret, thankfully the injury wasn't as serious as Jason's fall. Jason himself had cut his waist in some places at the line of the cupola, many bruises were already showing on his hips. He had also two cracked ribs from the sudden impact of the tank falling into the water.

Thankfully, they were all ok. Three were conscious at the time of the questioning, and Douglas was sleeping soundly. All four of them had gotten changed out of their greasy and dirtied oversuits; Seamus and Douglas were wearing pajamas, and Charles and Jason were wearing their school uniforms. Douglas had a cast on his right ankle as it had twisted in the wrong direction when the tank hit the surface of the water. Douglas also wore a soft white bandage wrapped around his head over his temples. His head had crashed into the side of the tank and he almost lost consciousness straight away.

The reasoning for the police questioning was that a set of Panther tracks were recognised in and around the town area, especially near the incident area. Every school that has ever fielded a Panther will be questioned, but most of the attention will be drawn towards Kuromorimine. Jason was the only person who actually saw anything, yet all he saw was a flash of khaki and the roaring of an engine. He recognised the silhouette as a Panther, but he didn't make out any specifications to prove which kind of Panther it was. Was it a G? An A? Did the barrel have a muzzle brake on it or not? Did the mantlet have added armour below it? None of this Jason knew, and he hated himself for it.

Jason summarised that it must have been Erik, but whether it was him driving the tank or not was largely unlikely. He asked himself and the police officers how a 47 ton Panther II could so easily enter, wreak havoc, leave, and never get seen or heard. The police assured the Firefly crew that they will get to the bottom of the issue, but all three boys who were listening doubted the reliability of the police. They only knew the reliability of the police when they were teenagers and adults 'back in the 20s, 30s and early-mid 40s'. It was weird for them, ever since they arrived to adapt so quickly to things so alien to them. During the war, the Japanese were the enemy. Now, they are friends.

Even after researching the British Empire's history, the four boys had come up still scratching their heads. Nothing made sense to them because it was all so new. The speed of which they adapted was exponentially quick, but getting used to the laws, norms, and beliefs that the Japanese had was some trouble. Jason hadn't smoked in a long while, mainly because he didn't want to get scolded by Darjeeling again, and the other three were drinking still as if they were adults. They had new-found ways of acquiring drinks, a dodgy shop they came across when they played Kuromorimine. A life saving find, in Seamus', Doug's and Charlie's views but a new problem for Jason. It was a problem because he looked old enough to buy everything and the old man at the till didn't ask for ID. Some peer-pressure here and there and all four of them got shit-faced after the victory against Kuromorimine. A lot of money was spent because lots of alcohol, food, and cigarettes are expensive. Even after Jason offered it as his treat for the crew working so well in the match, the other three pooled in some of their own money so Jason wouldn't go bankrupt.

After the police left with sincere apologies and thank you's, the room was finally left in near-complete silence. Other than the rustling of leaves outside and the muffled turning of Douglas in his bed, it was quiet. The deafening silence in the room was too much for the commander, so Jason spoke up.

"I'm sorry. I never wanted this to happen to you boys..." Solemnly, Jason hung his head and looked at his bandaged wrist.

"It's not your fault, Sir. You didn't know. It's not like any of us had enough time to react anyway," Seamus gave his captain a small smile, adjusting the sling his arm was in.

"Just got a few little bumps and bruises Sir, nothing to be too worried about. And we've had worse, that's for sure," attempting to be positive and cheerful, Charles kept a happy tone to his East-End accent.

"Yet I still feel guilty. What happened to the Corporal, and you, Sergeant, shouldn't have happened. I just feel like I could have done something..." Massaging down his wrist, the Scot sighed heavily. The room was once again left in an eerie silence, neither Charles nor Seamus really knew what to say. Then a mischievous idea sprung into Charles' mind.

"How 'bout I go sneak out 'n get some drinks? They wouldn't even know I'm gone I'd be that quick." Charles grinned a devilish grin as his posture straightened with growing confidence.

"In broad daylight? And you'd have to either sneak through the hallways of the hospital or jump out that window there down three floors. After you somehow don't break your legs or don't get caught by the nurses outside you'd have to sneak onto the school ship, not get recognised by any of the girls in your classes and magically get to your flat where the drinks are, come back staying completely undetected the whole way, and then sneak back up here with however much alcohol you somehow bring back with you." Rattling off and explaining to his gunner that it was an impossibly difficult task, Jason leaned forward on his arms towards the boy with a now crumbling courage.

"Right, then I won't be getting us any drinks then... wanker..." Charles slumped into his bed with his arms crossed, facing away from Jason. The final comment was hardly audible, but Jason heard it because he was listening out for it.

"Do you want to be on laundry duty, Corporal? Or do you want your arse kicked? Your choice." A stern and irritated look now replaced a previous light-hearted expression as Jason glared at Charles.

"Terribly sorry, Sir!" Charles shot up to attention and saluted the Captain, his brow sweating from nervousness.

"I didn't hear an answer, Corporal." His voice was deadpan and scared the gunner shitless.

"I-I'll do the laundry, Sir!" Charles' right hand began shaking.

"Two weeks fer yer fuckin' shite choice of vocabulary and who it was aimed at. Cockshit unruliness isn't what I expected from you, Corporal Samson! Do it again and I'll kick yer arse down the stairs. Then carry ye back up and kick ye down again! Do I make myself perfectly clear, Corporal Samson?!" Jason raised his voice, inciting fear into the younger boy.

"Y-Yes, Sir! Sorry, Sir!"

"Good, now sit down and shut yer fuckin' face." The frustrated expression Jason held on his face was still strong, and didn't show any sign of disappearing soon. Somehow, through either luck or the nurses not wanting to interfere, no one came in after Jason put the gunner in his place. Seamus clicked his tongue in awkwardness, as he had sat there and watched the whole thing happen. He agreed with how Jason had dealt with it, and he'd probably do something similar to him too, but his actions might have been caused by the seriousness of the events leading to them being in the hospital.

"I'm not excusing his actions Sir, but we're all still bit shaken up by what happened earlier... I'm sure there wasn't a bad intention in his mind when he said it." Seamus shifted the arm in the sling and sat up more in the bed.

"We just need time to calm down and recollect our thoughts. However we're still soldiers, and we still serve the Crown. Disobedience and insubordination don't go without punishment still. As I'm currently the highest-ranking officer and eldest here I have to hold all responsibilities for us. If Charles got caught, someone would blame me because I'm his upperclassman and I should be taking care of him. Same for you and Douglas." Jason paused and shifted to the sulking boy.  
"As much as I hate to be the centre of attention Charles, I don't want you to get into trouble either. So if you bring good manners everywhere you go and remember that we are foreigners to these people, you should be alright. Don't expect to receive the same treatment as you would back in London or in the Army. It's not the same out here and you should know that by now."

"Yes, Sir..."

A knock sounded from the door and a black-haired nurse dressed in white scrubs entered the room.  
"Sorry for the intrusion, but I've got a few messages for you all. Oh, is that one asleep?" A weak point was aimed at the sleeping body of Douglas, his dirty blonde hair barely visible from the bundling of the sheets.

"Aye, he's asleep. Probably for the best anyway." Jason answered the nurse's question, taking lead on the groups talking.

"Well, um," the nurse looked down at a clipboard she clutched in her right hand, and lifted a sheet of paper with her left, "3rd Year Jason Stevenson and 1st Year Charles Samson have been given the ok to go back home. I suppose it'll be you two then?" The nurse looked at the older red-headed boy and younger brown-haired boy on her left. Both of them gave each other a confused, yet satisfied look. They then turned towards the nurse and nodded, causing a smile to be worn on her lips.

"We're leaving then?" Charles asked excitedly, some of the cheerfulness from before returning.

"Yes, your clothes have been washed and your belongings have been set out for you outside. Ah, one last thing before you leave, Jason." The nurse shifted on her heel towards the now-standing boy.

"Aye, what is it?"

"The president of St Gloriana's Tankery team was asking to see you earlier, whilst you were being questioned by the police. She's waiting in the lobby downstairs for you. Thank you for your time, everyone." Once again, the nurse smiled then left the room.

"Wa-hey, you've got a girl looking out for you. Wish I was that lucky." Charles tutted and headed towards the door. Jason simply shook his head in disapproval, taking a bag of medication from his bedside table.

"We'll be seeing you later, Seamus. Tell Doug we hope he recovers quickly, else he'll be on tank cleaning duty for next week." A slight chuckle came from Jason's lips with a small salute to the Sergeant. He returned the salute with a nod and a smirk.

"I'll update you with how he's doing tonight and tomorrow, Sir."

"Cheers, later Sergeant."

"See you later Captain."

Jason and Charles waved goodbye to the Irishman and closed the doors behind them as they left the room. They picked up their stuff, Jason thanked the nurses for their work, and the two of them set off to the elevator. The walk was mostly in silence, the awkwardness from earlier still hung in the air. Charles felt immense guilt from what he said, and Jason simply saw it as an opportunity to show Charles and Seamus that he was still in charge. As the two of them walked out of the elevator and to the hospital lobby, Charles picked out his phone and started doing something on it. He was texting someone.

Jason noticed this and arched his neck over to look. He seemed to be texting one of his classmates, whether it was a girl or not he couldn't tell.

"Who're you texting?" The Scot asked, raising an eyebrow at the gunner.

"Eh? Just a girl in my class, she asked if I wanted any help with the homework due for next Monday." Charles had a content air about him, as if he was infinitely calm just by talking to this girl.

"A girl, eh? What are you going to reply with?"

"Dunno, didn't think I'd get this far with someone. I could invite her over but that would mean I'd have to clean up the place."

"Is your flat that much of a mess?"

"Yup, sad to admit but its a shithole right now."

"I'll make sure to do inspections this weekend, '_cleanliness is next to godliness'_, the Brigadier would often say."

"Shit, alright then best get it done today then. You got any bin liners in your flat?"

"Yeah, you think you'll need one?"

"One? Pftah, need more than one, Sir," the gunner chortled as he kept messaging his classmate.

"Jings crivens and help me bob, you cannae just let your rooms be pigstyes just 'cause I dunnae do no fuckin' checks every day like I used to." Jason rolled his eyes and groaned. A quiet snicker could be heard from a few meters away, which caught the attention of the two boys. Their eyes landed on Darjeeling, Orange Pekoe and Assam. It was Orange Pekoe who had laughed, and Darjeeling was now standing up and quickly walking towards Jason. In a flurry of blue and blonde, the commander had her arms wrapped tightly around Jason, and her face was pressed into his chest.

"You're an idiot! Scaring me like that, it's just uncouth. Do you have any idea how much tea I spilled when I heard what happened to you and your crew?" The blonde commander pulled away and smacked his arm, her perfect brows knotted into a frown and her face was a slight shade pinker than before.

"I'm sorry we worried you, Darjeeling. But you won, didn't you?" Placing his hands on his hips and shooting the commander a cheeky smirk, Jason quickly wanted to liven up the atmosphere.

"The only way you can pay me back is if you buy me a cup of tea-" Darjeeling had her arms crossed over her chest and she was facing away from the tall boy.

"You make it sound like it would be a problem for me." Jason leaned forwards, raising an inquisitive eyebrow towards Darjeeling.

"Then..." Darjeeling looked around; Assam, Orange Pekoe and Charles had already walked away to talk elsewhere. "Then I would like it if you took me out on a date again." There was no nervousness in her voice like it had been days before, this time there was a sense of confidence in place of shyness. It didn't surprise Jason, but he wasn't expecting it.

"Sure thing, at the weekend. I'll let you know about the time and place." Jason rolled his wrist and let it crack multiple times. There was a sense of pleasure from it as the pain from his wrist was now subsiding. It no longer hurt as much as it did.

"Fantastic. Can we walk together onto the ship?"

"Absolutely we can, would you like to go for tea first? Or have tea on the ship?"

"Hm, decisions decisions~ may we have tea on the ship?"

"I don't see why not. Let's go, shall we?"

* * *

_Here's the money, now get lost._

Erik handed his co-driver a small bag of coins and waved him off with a leather-gloved hand. He was sitting in an armchair with his legs dangling over one of the armrests. The room he was sat in resembled some rich, aristocratic, Germanic study. The walls were ladened with deep red wallpaper and the skirting boards and ceiling were painted a matte black. His black trench-coat hung by the door along with his black peaked cap, proudly bearing the skull and crossbones of the SS. The desk he sat at was dark oak, shined to perfection and had many compartments to store paperwork, stationary and his Luger. Not a compartment specifically for it, but he liked to say it was as it was hidden in a shelf just under the middle of the desk. The room had many tall bookshelves lining the walls, as well as a painting of Erik hung high behind the desk. Erik was wearing a black suit and a loose tie. He had to get rid of the red armband from his uniform, for obvious reasons, as well as any other fabric or materials that wore the Nazi Swastika on them.

Leaning back in his chair, he stared up at the ceiling, then at the glass chandelier that hung three metres above him. All of the expensive furniture was something he could happily get used to, especially all the delicious foods, too. He was currently residing in a house situated near the Nishizumi home in Kumomoto. Thanks to his fake, rich parents he was able to afford something like this, refurbish it to his standards and live in quiet contentment. Some issues arose, like finding a place for his crew to sleep. He managed to get two smaller rooms on the ground floor to be turned into bunks for his crew. Revelling in the glory of Kuromorimine's popularity and wealth, he easily got used to the attention he gained because of the Panther II's history. Due to it being a mid-war improvement of the early-war Panther Ausf.D, _(In his timeline, the Panther was developed in 1939, not 1942)_ it gained some improvements during its service in France, Africa, and Russia. Having reactive armour and a 1950s-like Maybach engine, it was far more advanced than his enemies' tanks.

There was something he often blamed on his crew, was the loss to a Firefly and a Tortoise. If it were during the war, some of the crew would have been killed due to the spalling caused by the Shot Mk.9 of the Firefly. Either their gunner was extremely skilled, or it was luck, Erik was still pissed off about it. Grovelling at his desk about his unnecessary loss, the German commander glared into a random corner of the room. Because of his grovelling, he was completely caught off-guard when Maho Nishizumi had appeared at his desk.

"Erik. The police are here to ask you some questions. It seems serious." Maho held her usual stoic expression on her face, devoid of any emotion.

"Alright, I'll come down then. Did you invite yourself into my house?" Erik lifted himself out of his chair and patted down his trousers. Fixing up his blond hair, the bored-looking boy stepped out from behind his desk and towards the heiress of the Nishizumi school.

"You were the one who gave me permission. I only see this as passing on information to you." She turned on her heel and promptly left the room. Erik breathed a heavy sigh and followed the girl out of the room.

"I wonder what this is all about." Pouting, Erik tried to don an innocent visage.

"They say they found Panther tracks moving towards and away from the incident at the finals. It was surprising how they didn't catch it on camera." Maho stepped to the landing in the house, looking down at the two police officers waiting at the bottom of the stairs. Erik shrugged and walked down, feeling nothing after the half-accusation from the brown-haired girl.

"We apologise for the intrusion, but we've got some questions to ask you if that's alright?" The male officer flipped out a pocket-sized notepad and pen and flicked to the first clean page.

"It's fine. I'm guessing this is about the incident in the finals yesterday?" Erik put his hands behind his back and let them drop above his backside. For someone so young, the officers didn't think that he would be so scarred already. He looked as if he had been in some sort of issue with an animal or had been caught up in some kind of fight. The female officer nodded and pulled her hands out of her vest.

"I'll be asking the questions, and my partner here will be recording it. Where were you during the finals?"

"Here, I was watching it on the livestream."

"Which of your crew are trained in driving your tank?"

"Klaus and Herbert. Klaus was watching the stream with me along with Jorge and Wolfgang. Herbert had left a few hours before to meet with some friends. Or so he claims."

"I see, and this Herbert... where is he now?"

"He's in the living room doing some school work. Do you suspect him?"

"Not yet, but the information you're giving us is giving an impression he might be involved. Do you mind if we ask him a few questions?"

"Of course not. I wouldn't want to get in the way of justice."

Erik grinned at the two officers and led them into the living room. It was a large room that was designed in a different way to his study. The style was traditional German, oak planks lined the walls at a one-metre height, then it changed into white walls and a ceiling supported by wooden beams. There were a few shelves around the room showing off expensive china and decorations, boasting the Feuerstein wealth. A large grey-stone fireplace sat in the centre of the left-hand wall. There were no logs behind the bars at the moment, but it had been lit before. Herbert looked up from his papers when the four people entered the room. Klaus and Jorge were on the other end of the table, playing cards and seemed unmoved by the new people in the room.

Erik backed off from the officers as the woman sat on a chair facing Herbert. Leaving the room with Maho, he closed the door behind them and faced her.

"You're so calm about all this, why? You could be in serious trouble for this." Maho stared up at the imposing character in front of her and crossed her arms.

"I know I'm innocent, you know I am. I think it was Herbert, you know? He seemed so suspicious when he returned yesterday. He completely ignored me when I asked why he came back so late." Erik put his hands up when he shrugged, pulling an expression that showed he was completely out-of-the-know.

"So you think it was him?"

"All the clues are pointing to him-"

"Erik you cheating bastard! I'll get you for this!" Herbert was being escorted out of the living room in handcuffs. Trying to fight against the two officers, the co-driver glared at his commander, and then spat at him. "Curse you and your fucking family!"

"Well that was rude." Erik took a handkerchief out of his trouser pocket and wiped away the spit on his cheek. He looked over at Maho, who had her eyes wide full of surprise.

"So it was him, why do you think he did it?"

"Maybe to get back at the Firefly crew for our defeat. You know about how our crew has never known defeat, so to be taken down so disgracefully possibly riled him up and made him want to take action. Perhaps he may have been wanting to wage a war between St Gloriana's Girls College and Kuromorimine Girl's Academy." After wiping off the spit, Erik tucked away the handkerchief and grinned at the boy being dragged into the back of the police car.

"Yet Darjeeling and I would never do such a thing to each other. I know she would never attempt an underhanded approach to revenge such as trying to kill students, I definitely wouldn't order anything like that either. Spy on them, maybe, but never something like that." Maho watched out of the window with Erik as Herbert was driven away from his house's drive. Erik clicked his tongue and sighed.

"I have pledged allegiance to Kuromorimine, and I would never disgrace that pledge. I fight for the honour of Kuromorimine and to achieve victory in matches in the name of Kuromorimine. I fight to gain recognition, and show that your school is the best in Japan." Lying through his teeth, Erik saw a hint of a smile on Maho's lips. The removal of the block in the road named Herbert allowed Erik to pursue his plan further. He paid Herbert to act on his plan and drive the Panther into the Firefly. Whether anyone survived or not wasn't something to be concerned about. Erik wanted to use it as an opportunity to create a violent rivalry between Darjeeling and Maho, but what Maho had just said destroyed part of his plan. Now Herbert will be sent to Germany, to a fake family. Erik is to live life lying and deceiving as he always has done. He rose through the ranks because of his intelligence and information gathering. He was awarded medals by the Fuhrer himself.

He was a war hero in his timeline.

He was a Prussian demi-god of war in his timeline.]

* * *

**Hi all! Hope you enjoyed this chapter. The explanation might have come too quickly, but it should be alright. I don't want this to become a mystery story, it's mainly a romance/action fic so I want to keep to it. **

**I'm also trying to develop the other side of the wall too, how Erik is playing along with the facade of lies, getting used to the new environment he was thrown into, and how he gets along with Maho and Erika. The next chapter will be more Jason and Darjeeling as well as Erik and Maho!**

**I appreciate any and all reviews left by you guys and I look forward to any you may be leaving for me!**

**Love you all and see you in the next chapter :)**


	10. 10

**code : 0026**

**alternate timeline : 2**

**subject : dmitri petrenkov**

"You dare challenge the great Katyusha?!" The diminuitive commander of Pravda jumped onto a box to be eye-level with the challenger.

"It's hardly a challenge if I know I'll win." The challenger, a boy slightly taller than Nonna with ruffled black hair stood to oppose Pravda's overall commander. A wicked grin was clear on his face as he saw the girl's expression scrunch up into a deeper rage.

"You won't win!" Katyusha stamped her foot and narrowed her eyes at the boy. Watching at the sidelines, Nonna shook her head and facepalmed.

"Dmitri, I don't think that challenging Katyusha would end well." Nonna stepped in before the small blonde girl tried to throttle the poor boy.

"Haha! That's because I would win!" Katyusha stood proudly on the box with her fists on her hips. The boy addressed as Dmitri simply rolled his eyes and stepped back.

"No, it's because it would end in tears." Nonna's calm and yet almost emotionless voice was clearly heard by the two students glaring at each other, they faced away from each other with a 'hmph' and crossed their arms. Katyusha reached up to Nonna, and let the taller girl know that she wanted to be raised up. Nodding, the brunette quickly lifted the girl onto her shoulders. Dmitri pulled on the Ushanka that was scrunched up in his left hand, fitting it into a comfortable position atop his head.

"I'll win against you in an arm wrestle any day, Dmitri, just you wait and see." Katyusha narrowed her eyes down at the boy in front of her, the glare she gave him hardly moved him.

"Sure." Shrugging, the brunet boy walked out of the chilled tank shed. Nonna quickly took a pace similar to his and walked beside him, securing her soft but firm grip on the legs of the commander sitting on her shoulders.

"So you admit defeat?" The little tyrant didn't see to want to give this up so easily, and she sounded like she wanted to have another go at trying to start an arm wrestle.

"Priznat porazheniye - vse ravno chto skazat, chto zima nikogda ne nastupit - etogo nikogda ne proizoydet." Speaking in Russian, Dmitri shook his head and looked in the opposite direction of the commander.

"Speak Japanese! Nonna, what'd he just say?" Katyusha flailed her legs and arms a little, her face growing a little red from the sudden outburst.

"_Admitting defeat is like saying winter will never come - it will never happen._" Thankfully, Nonna was also fluent in Russian. For someone who was so proud to be part of Pravda, and named after a popular Russian tale and song, she knew hardly anything of the Russian language.

"Couldn't you have just said that in Japanese?" The tiny commander arched her back forwards and rested her head on top of Nonna's.

"Wouldn't sound as dramatic." Gaining a sense of confidence, Dmitri's posture straightened.

"And you are one for being dramatic," Nonna followed up his answer with a grace-filled half-compliment. He shot her a cheeky grin, earning a hint of a smile back.

"I try my best. Anyway, I was going to cook dinner for my crew tonight and I bought a bit too many ingredients... would you two like to come down for a meal with us?" Dmitri offered a warm smile to Katyusha. She looked down at Nonna with a raised eyebrow.

"Should we go?" The blonde girl asked, considering whether or not to travel across the school during dinner hours just to eat with the boy crew.

"Dmitri is a very good cook, so I would dislike having to miss out on whatever he'll be cooking when he's offered to feed us for tonight." Nonna continued to watch the path ahead of them as they walked aimlessly through the campus of Pravda.

"You're a better cook though, Nonna!" Raising her voice and hoping her point was taken seriously, Katyusha pouted at the brunet boy.

"Have you ever eaten any of Dmitri's cooking?" The vice-commander held saint-like patience with the little girl, influencing both Klara and Dmitri when it came to taking care of the abrasive girl.

"No..." Filled with sadness and guilt, Katyusha's proud expression dropped. Knowing she couldn't hold such a strong opinion on something she can't yet have an opinion on made her realise that she should at least give the boys' cooking a shot.

"Then try some tonight. It won't hurt just to try a bit. If you don't like it then I'll cook you some Beef Stroganoff and Pirozhki." Nonna's suggestion seemed to bring some pride back into the blonde on her shoulders as she smirked at the boy walking beside them.

"Oi Dmitri, what are you planning on making tonight?" Katyusha demanded, pointing down at him.

"Hm... well, I was planning on making some Pelmeni and Chebureki. I have been meaning to make my Babushka's Kompot recipe with the fruit I got too, so a nice warm drink to go with dinner will go nicely." Placing a finger on his chin in thought, he mentally planned on what he wanted to cook for his crew and the two extra guests.

"Sounds delightful, we'll be there."

"Krasivyy! We'll be cooking in the field under the big tree, it gives a nice view of the ship and the sky. The teachers gave us permission to cook there by the way. The boys and I will start cooking by about 5-ish, so if you want to start heading there by 1745 hours, then it should be done by the time you arrive." Dmitri wanted to be as charitable as possible, not to make himself look good but to let Katyusha and Pravda as a whole that he is a good person and that his crew can be trusted. He wanted to cook on a much larger scale, for all the girls in the tankery team for Pravda but they neither had enough money nor the permissions to do so. They had the energy and enthusiasm to do it, to await the satisfied looks of the girls when they eat their food. Dmitri and his crew were well-known in their old Tank Division for being expert cooks. Before the war, they all worked together in a popular bakery in Leningrad, then volunteered into the Red Army when they found out their peace-time during the European war was broken.

Dmitri is a boy of pride and courage. He always knows what he wants and strives to obtain it. Before the transportation, before the war, he was looked up to by the majority of his peers. At school, he was successful and fulfilled his father's wishes. Dmitri was raised into a Bolshevik family who lived in secrecy in Tsarist Russia. Dmitri's father was a proud follower of Lenin, Stalin and Trotsky. Dmitri believed the propaganda he and everyone else in Bolshevik Russia were fed and felt that he should fiercely defend the honour of Russia, even if it meant laying down his life for it.

When Dmitri arrived at Pravda, it was the first time he felt fear in a long time. Being forced to adapt to the sudden change in time, place, culture and people, he went into a silent state for three days. His brother, Vasily, had to speak for him during the days he was silent. The other three crew members of Dmitri's T-34/85 were in a state of disarray, they looked to the next closest command figure. Vasily was too busy helping Dmitri recover so they turned to someone unexpected. The diminutive stature of the overall commander of Pravda was surprisingly imposing. Katyusha was harsh to them because they were boys who had no idea what to do. Katyusha was only similar to their original superior officers by the harsh words she spoke, everything else paled in comparison.

Once Dmitri had regained his composure, he assumed the role of a commander for the boys in his crew, also the other five boys from the original transfer; the five boys who weren't actually soldiers in the Red Army but boys who just transferred from a school in Magadan, a port town north of the Sea of Okhotsk, far east in the Russian Federation. Vasily became Dmitri's second-in-command and watched over the transfer boys whilst Dmitri trained the original crew.

Sensha-do no longer became just a girls sport after the first week of the new school year. Jason's crew, Erik's crew, Adam's crew, and Dmitri's crew all received raised eyebrows or scowls some several times from the older generation practisers of Sensha-do. It was mainly arrogant women with archaic views that held a die-hard belief that Sensha-do was a girls sport and boys shouldn't play in it; they argued against the introduction of boys into the tankery arts and argued against the co-ed conversion of St Gloriana, Kuromorimine, Saunders, and Pravda. Even though there were male officials in Sensha-do, it seemed irregular for a guy to be part of a crew.

The times were changing, and Western society aroused the idea of introducing the tankery arts to some of their own schools. Some modern tank design departments in countries like the US, Russia, China, Britain, Germany, and France, all started testing their own safety measures towards an adaptation of Sensha-do. The selected boys who were sent to Japan were virtually just test dummies for a project. They were sent to Japan so they could practice tankery professionally and be taught legitimate outlooks on it all.

Some people were slow to catch up to the changing times and some welcomed it. Some even argued against it, however, things like that will happen no matter the case. What none of the Sensha-do officials knew was that not only over 50% of the boys 'sent' to the schools were men transported through time and their ages reversed so they could compete, but the original boys who officially transferred from foreign countries were complete novices and required tutoring from the professional boys. This, of course, was a problem, as the boys who knew stuff were told they were in charge of teaching the novices, thus slowing down their own learning in and outside of Sensha-do.

* * *

**Jason's Flat, three days after the finals**

Jason and Darjeeling were sat on opposite sides of Jason's small round dining table in his one-person flat. Between them was a Shogi board. After a few short explanations, Jason managed to get the hang of it. He made a comment before they played that it looked a lot like chess, and in some parts, he was right because it was in the same boardgame family as chess.

As Darjeeling has already won three games to zero, Jason was beginning to get antsy. Never before has he experienced such a terrifying opponent as Darjeeling. She was formidable, unforgiving and refused to go easy on him. Whilst she was kicking his arse at Shogi, Darjeeling had a cute, sweet, smile and would occasionally innocently sip at her tea. This threw Jason off his game even more than the lack of board pieces he had on the board.

Another defeat and Jason let out an exasperated sigh. Without grace and much care for his own well-being, Jason hit his head on the table and groaned. This elicited a short laugh from his demon opponent, and a few pats on the head.

"Would you like to play something else?" Darjeeling asked, leaning forward on her right arm.

"Yes please..." A defeated, muffled voice escaped from the depressed air that Jason gave off.

"How about... chess?" Darjeeling tried hard not to laugh when Jason gave her a pain-filled glare. "Alright alright, how about we go into the town?" Perking up, Jason gave the blonde an excited nod. Another warm smile, and the two of them started packing up the Shogi pieces.

"Any idea on what we'll do?" Jason asked as he put all the pieces and the board into a brown, almost ornamental, box.

"Well, we could go to the arcade, we could go into some of the shops and have a wander around..." Darjeeling looked up in thought, tapping the table gently.

"Sounds like a lot of walking," standing from the table and grabbing his jacket off a coatrack, Jason then kicked around his boots into position. Darjeeling agreed but claimed it's good for their bodies because it's good exercise. Darjeeling pulled on her shoes with a quaint sense of haste and grace mixed together, as well as folding her coat over her arm, waiting by the door for Jason to finish tying his laces. As he concluded the lace-tying, he stood up straight and grabbed a bundle of keys laying on the kitchen counter. He made his way to the door and opened it for the fair maiden waiting beside it. Thanking him without a comment on his lack of deftness with laces, Darjeeling stepped outside into the bracing chilled breeze. Jason switched off a light and remembered to pick up his wallet as he left the flat. He closed the door with an accidental slam, quietly apologised, and locked the door. Just as they left, Seamus stepped out of his own flat.

Seamus was dressed in casual warm clothes, with a thick leather jacket draped over his shoulders as the sling and cast got in the way of it.

"Top o' the mornin' to you two. Where you off to then?" The Irishman smiled at them as he locked his door. Both Jason and Darjeeling lost the feeling of awkwardness when being seen outside together by classmates, so neither of them reacted in a surprising way.

"Rest of the day to you, Seamus. We're going into town for the day. Shouldn't you be relaxing?" Jason twirled the keys on his left index finger, the bundle of keys jangled with every movement.

"Aye, well I should be. I got told that there's a package waiting for me at school so I thought I'd go and pick it up. they said I could pick it up tomorrow during the school day but I need to do some shopping anyway." Seamus adjusted the sling supporting his arm, chuckling awkwardly.

"Don't push yourself too hard, ok? Call me if you need any help with anything."

"Will do, Sir-" Remembering that he needed to call the Captain by his name when in the presence of others, Seamus corrected himself, "-Jason. I'll be seeing you later then."

Seamus stepped past the couple and walked down the steps, walking in the direction of the school. Darjeeling gave Jason a quizzical look, but he didn't seem to notice as he walked down the stairs. Darjeeling rolled her eyes and followed the red-headed boy. Giving in to the urge, Darjeeling took Jason's had into her own and laced her fingers into his. This action caused a little chuckle and a squeeze of her hand. This proved that he was comfortable with their relationship, and she was happy about this.

Before they started their campaign for playing all the arcade games, Jason skillfully slinked into a small charity shop on the edge of the town centre. Ever since Seamus had told him a day before the finals that the shop sold books and music released during the 30s and 40s, Jason had been meaning to take a look and see what they had. This confused Darjeeling, but she liked the warm and welcoming atmosphere that the shop gave to its customers. Browsing through some old and tattered records, Jason recognised a couple of artists of his time and pulled them out of a box on the floor.

"Ah shite I don't have a record player at the flat..." clicking his tongue, Jason thought about the purchase whilst tapping his foot. As Jason was thinking about whether or not to buy the records, Darjeeling browsed the rest of the shop. She hardly recognised any of the western-themed fashion, books, and music, but some Japanese products did catch her eye. There was a shelf of almost a century-old Japanese scripture, telling stories of the Second World War, the Origins of Sensha-do, as well as other tales of Samurai and the Empire of Japan. Darjeeling began reading some of the titles of the books and quickly got engrossed in the premise of reading old literature. Jason tapped the blonde's shoulder and handed her a royal-blue book. Its spine had intricated golden details and the title was written in golden ink.

_British Idioms and Saying__s_

Darjeeling looked up at the smirking redhead with a perplexed look. He simply shrugged in response, saying he knows how much she likes to speak to her team in cryptic English sayings that don't make much sense to them, and how he's impressed by her knowledge on British literature so he thinks it would be funny to give her a book with idioms that are even older than him. Well, idioms and sayings made before he was born in 1908. Technically, he'd be over one hundred years old in this timeline but here he's even younger than when he left. Transported into the future and made younger, it didn't make much sense to him still but he enjoyed the youth he had regained.

Darjeeling gratefully took the book from his hand and skimmed through it, a look of pure concentration on her face as she read through some pages. It was as if she began memorising some already, and was thinking of situations she could use them in.

"I'm so tempted to get this... the cover and the spine are so pretty, too..." Darjeeling fawned over the intricate golden patterns on the hard cover and the spine.

"Hey, it was just a suggestion, dunnae have to get it. It's cheap so I don't mind getting it for you." Jason began fishing out some spare change from his pocket. Without hesitation Darjeeling stopped him with her free hand, and shook her head at him.

"I'll buy it, it's fine. I'll think of you whenever I read it, ok?" Giving the Scot a warm smile, Darjeeling retracted her hand to fetch her purse. Jason shrugged and looked at the things he was going to buy. Three records, two were jazz and the other was a Sinatra record. He was also holding two books with the records. Tilting her head, Darjeeling's curiosity overpowered her and she couldn't help but be nosy for what he was going to purchase.

"Hm? You probably wouldn't like my taste in music." Jason laughed to himself, purely out of awkwardness as he thought she was judging him for his choice in music. Instead, she was trying to look at the books.

"What books did you pick out?" The blonde finally asked, pointing shyly at the two books he had in his hand.

"Oh, these?" Jason lifted them up and handed them to the girl. She delicately took them into her hands and inspected them. One of them was a large, worn book on the Second World War, it focused on the Royal Armoured Corps of the British Army. The other book was quite an old book, maybe dating 60 or 70 years since it was published. It was a little novella titled: _A Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde_.

"That one seems like an interesting read, would it be too much trouble if I asked to borrow it after you've read it?" Without letting Jason get much time to respond, Darjeeling put on the cutest face he'd ever seen. It was impossible to say no to her at this point. Stuttering out an agreement, Jason watched as she returned to browsing the shelves.

"I'm gonna buy these then, you getting anything?" Jason fished some spare change out of his pocket, along with a couple of bank notes.

"Mhm, just the pocketbook you showed me and this book on British Strategy during the Second World War. It's fascinating what you can find in this place." Peering down at some of the lower bookshelves and reading all the titles, the blonde seemed engrossed in all the varying genres and sub-genres from multiple different eras.

"I feel like the books were drawn to you like a magnet. Those were pretty lucky, don't you think?" Jason said as he strode over to the counter, placing his items on it. Darjeeling followed him up and nodded.

"Assam would probably want to read this too, but she prefers new scripture rather than books that look like they've been read through numerous times. It's like a kind of nostalgia when I look at these books, the intricate designs and perfect fonts are so interesting. They're nothing like the boring couple of fonts that are always used in recent books, these are more... how do I put it? Authentic? I'm not sure, but there's a kind of elegance to it too." Whilst Darjeeling was talking about the old books, Jason was staring dreamily at the records he had just bought, almost completely missing everything that Darjeeling had been saying. She noticed this and poked him in the cheek.

"You seem pretty enthralled by that record, do you even have something to play it on?" She looked at the black vinyl in the white paper pocket it was being stored in, an inquisitive eyebrow being raised in the process.

"Nope, but I can order one online can't I?"

"It won't arrive on the ship, you'd have to wait until we dock somewhere. On the other hand, another shop could sell one. For example a music shop, I'm sure they'd sell a record player. There's one in town actually, we could have a look if you like?" As she posed the question, Darjeeling packed her own purchases into a bag she carried with her.

"That would be great but I'd probably buy it another time. They're not the easiest things to carry around. Anyway, it's not all about me today; you still have yet to beat me at every game in the arcade still." Jason laughed at his own joke, even though it was true and at his own expense. Darjeeling was exceptionally good at games, any kind of game. Whether it be table tennis or gambling, she would beat any who opposed her. Much to the disappointment of Assam and Orange Pekoe, they'd always be beaten by Darjeeling if they found something they thought they could beat her at. When Darjeeling's two friends told Jason about her unconfirmed conquest to become the grand gamemaster of St Gloriana's College he proposed a game of chess.

He was horribly beaten. He then proposed a game of Scottish Highland Athletics, something he enjoyed doing when he was still in the Rifles Regiment. She declined on the spot and claimed those aren't the kinds of games she's referring to. To Jason, he counted that as a victory and Assam and Orange Pekoe noted it as one of Darjeeling's first defeats in games. Jason was very proud of himself, but it came at a cost: Darjeeling used him and his crew as mobile target practice before the finals to train the girls' accuracy.

"That makes sense," Darjeeling continued, "and how do we know that I'll beat you in everything? Shall we do one of those dancing games? You boast your fitness from time to time but I'd like to put that to the test," the commander couple walked out of the shop, their recent purchases being held carefully.

"Oh yeah? I'd like to see you try and beat me." A mischievous grin appeared on Jason's face as he imagined himself beating Darjeeling at an arcade game. Jason's opponent shot him a deadpan, emotionless face and said:

"You will lose."

Needless to say, Jason felt like his pride was being threatened, but he also felt that he had even more courage than before. This new rise in courage levels would see his pride's demise in less than two hours.

One way to summarise their date would be this: Proud Scot Gets Shit on by Tea-Obsessed Tank Commander. There was one victory for Jason that day, and it was indeed on the dancing arcade machine, every other game was spent crying because of a total defeat.

As it began getting dark, the amount of shoppers became more sparse and some shops even started closing.

"Hey, since we did all the homework yesterday... want to come over and watch a film before you head back to your dorm?" After washing his salty tears off his face after the disaster that was the arcade, Jason put on his usual optimistic face.

"I would love that, what movie did you have in mind?" Darjeeling hooked her arm with his, pulling herself close beside him. Without a second thought, Jason invited this and lead them on the way out of town towards where he lived.

"Hm," Jason's mind went blank as he thought of something to watch with Darjeeling. Should he suggest something romantic? A war movie? A comedy? nothing came to mind, not only because Charles hasn't caught him up with 'modern' film but also because he simply hasn't made much time for himself to look. Due to the turmoil going on in Jason's mind, Darjeeling simply just waited for him to suggest something. She did start thinking it would take a while for him to think of something, the expression on his face did look very serious and confused at the same time.

"Shall we decide once we get there?" A divine question sent from a divine woman, Jason felt like he had been saved from eternal embarrassment because of his film ineptitude.

"That would be easier, wouldn't it? Probably should have thought of something before I asked you." Jason chuckled nervously as he still thought of movies they could watch.

"It's alright, I don't mind. I'm glad you asked me actually," the blonde said with a prideful smile. The embarrassment and nervousness that was held in their relationship was almost completely gone, they were comfortable with each other's mannerisms. What goes with every relationship are doubts and worries, yet neither of them wanted to address them yet because they were completely different and the new couple wanted to have fun first.

About ten minutes passed and they were already climbing the stairs to the second floor of the flats. Jason unlinked his arm to fish out his keys from his pocket and Darjeeling waited patiently by the door. Whilst he was fiddling with the key, Darjeeling was watching the boy intently, focusing on little details of his face. The glimmering in his blue eyes, the laddish grin he always had, the red stubble growing on his chin and jawline, the short white scar on his chin and bridge of his nose. It was the little things that she focused on, and found great interest in. She had seen a few scars on his back when they had their first date, some on his hands when she held them, and the scarred upper lip when he smiled.

She'll ask about them one day, maybe one day soon. Darjeeling did have a lot of questions, most of them about his life before transferring. Hardly any background information was given on him and his crew, it was all too vague. The other boys, who have now entered Sensha-do and will be trained by Jason, had much more fleshed-out files, they had more background information given.

Darjeeling trusted the four boys of the Firefly, but she knew hardly anything about them.

"Earth to Miss Darjeeling, can you read me?" A hand waved in front of the commander's gaze, bringing her back to the world of the conscious.

"Hm? Oh, I apologise... I spaced out for a second then. Did you say something?" Darjeeling blinked rapidly before setting her eyes up to the smiling Scotsman.

"Aye, I was asking if you wanted to come in or just stand there and glare but..." There was a smug look on his face when he placed a couple of bags down inside his flat. Darjeeling hummed a response and stepped into his flat. Jason was already setting out two mugs and picking out some teabags from a jar. Darjeeling took off her shoes, pulled off her coat and hung it up next to Jason's by the door. She walked over to the table in the middle of the flat and leaned her bag against one of the legs. The room seemed a lot cozier for some reason, perhaps it was the gentle yellow hue of the light or the soft fabrics that lay around the flat; the blue curtains, the grey bedsheets, the cream-coloured carpet, the large heap of laundry that sat on a chair in the corner. It was comfortable and clean, and it was probably only like this because she visited from time to time.

Jason, without actually asking her beforehand, placed a cup of tea next to where she was standing.

"Hm? Oh, thank you. I didn't even need to ask. Is it becoming a habit or did you just know?" Darjeeling closed her fingers around the mug and brought it up to her lips.

"Bit o' both, I think. Are ye hungry at all? I could whip something easy up if you like?" Jason opened up some cupboards, wincing when he saw the sheer lack of food in them.

"I'm ok, thank you." Sitting down on one of the chairs at the table, Darjeeling watched the redheaded boy pack some things away. "Jason, may I ask you a question? You don't have to answer it if you don't want to."

The question sparked some unease in the Scot and he slowly reeled himself away from a cupboard. He looked at her with a raised eyebrow and nodded. He saw her close her eyes and breathe in deeply. A couple of seconds passed and she exhaled.

"Is everything ok?" Jason pulled out the opposite chair and sat in it, a now worried look covering his countenance. Darjeeling nodded, her grip tightening ever so slightly on the cup of tea.

"I feel like I've known you for ages, yet it has barely been a year. You've told me so much but yet so little. There's not much about me that I can talk about, not things I haven't already told you, anyway... You're an enigma, but you're also an open book. I'm really interested in this book, and I want to read it but it's all written in code. I trust you like I trust Assam and Orange Pekoe. I can't say the same about you to me because I can't read minds. You're a boy who has held a lot of information from a girl who simply wants to understand and help him. You're troubled, I can tell every time that when you talk about your past you're scared of something. What is there that you're not telling me, Jason?" Darjeeling's expression turned from serious to saddened and remorseful. Jason furrowed his brows, not quite sure if he heard the commander correctly or if he was dreaming.

"That sorta question, huh..?"

"As I said, you don't have to answer."

"I feel like you deserve answers. I cannae tell ye the whole truth, and I don think I ever will be able tae. A lot of shit has happened in my life, in such a short amount of time too. I've seen things you wouldn't think were true, done things you wouldn't believe. I have these scars for a reason, a reason I'm neither proud nor ashamed of. Some of them are reasons I'm scared of. I came here, to Japan, against my will. I never asked to be transferred, I never asked to be born into a shite family neither.

One thing I do know is that being forced to come here wasn't such a bad thing after all. I escaped the hell that was my life and found myself in a fantasy world. I found a reason why I live. In the years I've been able to think for myself, I've ne'er been so happy. I'm happy because I'm out of the shithole that was my home, I'm happy because I don't need to worry so much about losing the ones I'm close to, I'm happy because I've found someone I like. I ne'er thought I could be so lucky to find this person, so divine and angelic. She's beautiful, more beautiful than any girl I've ever seen. She's kind and endearing, she doesn't hesitate to aid someone in need. I ne'er thought she'd be sitting at my table, drinking my tea... and telling me she cares about me." Jason's gaze dropped and a solemn look overcame the previous expression.

"I don't deserve your kindness, after all I've done in my life... I can't understand why people still give me their kindness, it's wasted on me. My father hates me, he's always blamed me for every mistake made. I don't even know if my own fucking mother is alive... I'm scared to call home, scared to have my father pick up the phone and tell me the words I never wish to hear. It's my fault he's like that. But it's alright, I'm not there anymore, I'm out of his life and he's out of mine. I just hope Mother is ok..."

Jason wore a weak smile, his eyes were tired and that 1000-yard-stare she saw when she first met him came back. She could see now that whatever he has gone through, he can't come to reason with it. A single tear dropped from Darjeeling's cheek, her heart was racing and she couldn't quite understand what he was saying. Through instincts, Darjeeling let her hands fall from the cup and she rose from the chair. She stepped over to him and wrapped her arms warmly around his shoulders. Carefully, she placed a hand on the back of his head and pulled him into the crook of her neck.

Jason sat still in the chair, staring into nothing as Darjeeling's warm embrace calmed his heart. He slowly returned the hug, wrapping his arms around her waist. A moment passed and he stifled a cry. This feeling, this embrace, it reminded him of his mother's hugs; warm and soothing, breaking down the walls of stubbornness, stoic facades, and the lies he told himself to keep from breaking down.

Another moment passed and Darjeeling began to stroke the back of his head. His grip on her sweater tightened and he began to cry.

_Stop crying, you fucking baby. You're not two anymore._

_Go to your mother, she cares._

_You're a fucking disappointment, you know that? _

_All you do is complain and cry, just work for once would you._

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry... I'm sorry," Muffled pleas of forgiveness were whispered from Jason's mouth. Darjeeling pulled his head closer, massaging the back of it.

"It's ok... you don't have to apologise. It's ok... I'm here for you Jason, I will be for as long as you want... I won't let you go." A phrase got stuck in her throat, debating whether or not to say it to him, debating whether or not this was a good time. But he confessed his feelings to her, didn't he?

"I shouldn't have burdened you with my problems... I'm sorry, you don't deserve this." Jason sniffled, his voice weak and strained.

"If we're together, your burdens are my burdens, and we'll overcome them together... I love you, Jason."

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**H : Well I didn't expect it to be so quick**

**R : We knew they loved each other for almost a month, it's wrong to play with human minds like this.**

**H : I'll be honest with you, I haven't changed a single thing. Them, and the other three, they've all been natural.**

**R : That can't be right. Let me see the logs.**

**H : Go ahead, I'm not lying.**

**R : Unbelievable... This can't be right.**

**H : Is it young love, or genuine, Red String love?**

**R : The Red String has been tied. We can't do anything to get in the way of them and their relationship now. Erik's String has been tied too. Adam's as well. Dmitri's has been tied since the first week. Nonna seems happy, she understands her own feelings but isn't afraid of rejection. She's just scared to ruin the relationships she has already if she were to do anything.**

**H : She's afraid of how Katyusha would respond?**

**R : No, not afraid, not really. It's difficult to describe.**

**H : It's funny how we thought it would be commander and commander for all of them, yet in Adam's case it's gunner and commander. In Dmitri's case it's commander and vice-commander.**

**R : Did The Boss specify that it had to be commander/commander?**

**H : Thankfully not for Adam and Dmitri. Since Jason and Erik are his favourites, he had to pull some strings by himself. The pulled strings didn't show up in the logs, nor did he tell us about them. I don't doubt him, but it would have been nice to know what he did...**

**R : How come Dmitri can speak Russian by choice, yet Adam and Jason can't speak English by choice? Unconsciously they're speaking Japanese but it's being translated for them.**

**H : Honestly, I have no idea how that system works. Dmitri can technically speak three languages - _fluently_**

**R : I know, can we not change that for them?**

**H : I think the change is too late, they'd all definitely know something was up.**

**R : Jason has already been thinking about the validity of everything. He doesn't believe that it was a coincidence that this has happened.**

**H : He has? Clever man, or is he just paranoid?**

**R : As they are still just thoughts, nothing has been spoken and nothing has been verified for him.**

**H : He thinks he's going crazy?**

**R : No, he just thinks that the world is crazy.**

**H : Hah, if that ain't the truth...**

**R : The commander that Jason met in his nightmare, who was he?**

**H : Someone we'll be introducing later, he's an old accomplice of Jason's. He'll appear in the friendly elimination match not acting so... friendly... so to speak.**

**R : He knew him from the war?**

**H : He knew him since he was a child.**

**R : Oh... _Oh_, him...**

**H : _Him._**

* * *

**A/N : Do you hate me yet? lmao I'm just kidding. In this chapter I wanted to flesh out Jason's character a little bit more and introduce Dmitri's character too since we had introduced Adam in the last one too. Next chapter will focus on the pompous arse known as Erik, the guy we all love. **

**If you've got anything to comment on or give me insight on, please leave a review! I really appreciate every review you guys leave as it helps me write this and feel excited to write the next chapter for you guys. **

**Thanks for reading this far and I hope you enjoy the next chapter!**


	11. 11

**Kuromorimine Tank Sheds Three**** Weeks After The Finals**

"Erika? As in, _ein kleines Blumelein, _Erika?" Erik leaned on the hatch to his cupola, resting his cheek on his hand. His tank and Erika Itsumi's King Tiger were sitting near each other, awaiting orders from Maho.

"Is that some kind of joke?" The steely-eyed white-haired girl scowled at the boy commander.

"No no, of course not. Where I come from there is a song we sing to help boost morale. The title is the same as your name." Getting bored quickly, Erik rapped his fingertips on the rim of the cupola impatiently.

"I'm not sure whether to take that as a compliment or not." Erika, Maho's second-in-command, seemed like such a cold person to Erik, but he didn't mind so much. He found it attractive in some way. As much as he hated to admit such a thing, as he already had eyes on Nishizumi's heir, he felt like he couldn't help it.

"Take it whichever way you want, doesn't bother me much." The fair-haired boy paused. "How long does it take her? I'm going to grow a beard in the time she's done."

"Don't be so impatient, Commander Nishizumi always does everything perfectly so she must have come across a problem." Erika's posture was straight and strong. Her figure was much like one of a warrior queen, stoic and powerful. Her gaze was fixated on one point across the field, an opening from the forest.

"Oh, there she is. We can finally get this week-long match started." Heaving a deep sigh, Erik tilted his head so he could look at the filled bustles lining the turret and side armour. There was an agreement set between Kuromorimine, Saunders, St Gloriana and Pravda to simulate a mock-war; Axis vs Allies. Saunders, Pravda and St Gloriana were only allowed to field 15 tanks, whilst Kuromorimine could field 45. The match would start at 12pm on the first Monday of the winter holidays and end at 12pm the same Friday. The place they would be playing on is the same map as the finals but enlarged by a scale factor of 2. Essentially, more urban areas were available and more areas to ambush were too.

Maho had been preparing for this match ever since it was spoken about by her mother over two months beforehand. Shiho Nishizumi claimed that it would be a good test of feats against the might of Kuromorimine. With Ooarai out of the way, her school would not lose. Maho's mother was confident, but was also kind of admitting her prestigious school was of a lower skill rating than a rag-tag team of girls who were fighting just so their school ship wouldn't be scrapped.

This weeklong match would be played like this:

_\- If a tank can be repaired, then it can be repaired and sent back into battle or towed back to HQ to be fixed._  
_\- If a tank has been knocked out and is capable of repair, then its status of being knocked-out can be reversed. (If an engine or transmission is broken and cannot be repaired, then the tank will assume 'inoperable' status)_

_\- If a crew chooses to stop playing or surrenders, then a knockout is counted to the opposition and the tank assumes 'inoperable' status._  
_\- A crew can return to HQ to resupply ammo, fuel, tools, and food whenever they need to. A crew can also spend as much time on the battlefield as they're ordered to._

_\- There is an out-of-bounds area around all HQs, stretching over a mile wide so a team cannot camp out another team and stop them from playing.  
\- The team with the least amount of knockouts at the end of the match wins (Reward is still being discussed).  
\- All four teams have primary targets that cost ten knockouts when taken out, these are: Saunders' M4 Sherman, Pravda's IS-2, St Gloriana's A43 Black Prince and Kuromorimine's PzKpfW Tiger I._

Erik was confident he and his crew could claim the most knockouts for Kuromorimine and was given the role of _'Panzerjager' _during the match. He took this role so he could impress Maho, and he believed in the brotherly cohesion of his crew to maximise their potential.

Maho's Tiger 212 carried larger bustles than the Panther's, as did Erika's King Tiger. The bustles held provisions, tools, cooking kits, spare tracks, anything that could be needed for a mil-sim match. A game like this had never been done before, so it was being used as a test. Every tank being fielded by both teams had pre-game checks, all ammunition had been verified and approved by the Sensha-do federation.

Maho's, Erika's and Erik's tanks were seen as the 'Big Three' by the Allied teams, they were the primary targets that were to be prioritised. The overall commander and vice-commander of Kuromorimine were both platoon commanders, they had 12 panthers, four Jagdpanzers, three Jagdpanthers, and one J each. Erik borrowed a crew for scouting uses and the Maus was only to be used as a mobile shield if needed. That made 45. What was being used by the other teams, they didn't know. The only way they could find out where or what they were fielding was by doing scout tasks or fighting them.

Maho, Erika and Erik were surrounding a table with a map on it in a tent. The tent was located in the HQ of the Kuromorimine base. Maho began talking about tactics with her vice-commander, talking about diving headstrong through enemy defenses and then rip them apart from the inside. Essentially, she wanted to 'Blitzkrieg' the Allied teams.

Maho and Erika were to advance through two major points, one was through the town, and the other was to capture the highest hill on the map. Maho entrusted the hill job to Erika and she took the town job. Whilst the two commanders were talking about the strategies, Erik made himself comfortable in a foldable chair beside the table.

"Erik, you know what you're doing in this match. If it ever comes down to it, which I doubt very much, I'll call on you to help either me or Erika." Maho had turned her attention to the blonde boy in the chair. He looked up from his boots and nodded at his commander.

"Ja, ich weiss. I'll stay in the shadows during the match and I'll use the scout as often as possible to get enemy locations back to you." Erik hoisted himself up from the chair and adjusted the belt on his uniform.

"You leave in five, get your crews ready." Maho grabbed her cap from the table and her radio.

"Jawohl." Erik half-bowed and left the tent, fixing his peaked cap atop his head. Walking over to the ammo dump in the base, he found his loader and gunner stacking 88mm shells onto a trolley. "We're leaving the compound in five minutes, alert the Panzer III girls too." Erik pushed a hand into his coat pocket and retrieved a pair of black leather gloves. He slipped them on as he arrived at his tank. He looked up at the Panther II, seeing that Klaus was standing on the hull attaching the IR optics onto the turret. Erik grabbed onto the side of the hull and pulled himself up next to Klaus.

"Guten Morgen, are we leaving soon then?" Klaus clicked something metallic and sighed.

"In a few minutes, yes. Get her started."

"Jawohl Herr Standartenfuhrer." Hopping down into the driver's hatch, Klaus reached his left hand onto the circuit box on his right to start the engine. Thankfully this time they didn't have to hand-crank the engine to turn it over, it was already warm. The engine burst into life and the exhausts spouted grey smoke. Taking individual checks on everything, the radio frequencies, the IR optics for both himself and Wolfgang, Klaus made sure that everything was ready to go.

A Panzer III rolled up in front of the Panther, the commander of it began talking to Erik.

"Just follow my lead, I'll ask for you when I need you." A cold and ungrateful reply came from Erik, and all they offered was what they were there for. Jorge, the loader, had successfully loaded all of the shells and clambered into his compartment. Then climbed in Wolfgang, the gunner, and then Erik. A few seconds were spent adjusting and checking a couple of things before Erik gave the command to advance.

The Panther led the Panzer III out of the compound, drove down a dirt track and then veered off to the left towards a forest.

"Stay on course for another one hundred metres, Klaus, and then you'll get to the edge of the forest. I want you to hug the forest until you see a dirt road going in - go in the opposite direction and stay off the road," Erik had his torso out of the cupola, and his binoculars hung comfortably around his neck. "Wolfgang, you brought the guns didn't you?"

"Ja, I did Herr Standartenfuhrer." Wolfgang leaned back in the gunner's seat and reached down to a box in the hull. He unlatched the lid and pulled something out of it. He passed a Luger P08 to Erik and three magazines.

"Prima, thank you Wolfgang. Give the other pistols to everyone else, and make sure that the girls don't see our guns too." Erik pulled back the lever on the receiver and loaded a bullet. The gunner pulled three Walther P38's out of the box with two magazines each. With the confined spaces of the turret, Wolfgang struggled to get one of the final objects out, he pulled it up and pushed it up towards his commander. Erik took hold of the barrel and pulled it up, then placed it on the roof of the turret.

"The magazines, Herr Standartenfuhrer." Wolfgang passed up four STANAG magazines. Erik grabbed them and loaded three into some waist pouches. The STG 44 (or in Erik's case, the STG 42) was quickly loaded, it's charging bolt pulled back and the strap attached between the barrel and stock were slung over his right shoulder. All of these actions were hidden by the hatch door from the Panzer III that followed the Panther.

The Panther met the dirt road and turned left up a small incline with the forest now behind them. Up the small hill was an abandoned farm; a farmhouse, a windmill, and a barn. Erik drew on the map the correct placement of the farm and ordered the minuscule column of two tanks to continue on. They'll use the farm as a setback point if needed, it did have a good view of the area.

After half an hour, they started to understand the gigantic size of the play area. After half an hour, they still hadn't arrived at their assigned overwatch place and still had another ten minutes of driving until they did. Tensions began to rise as some commanders through the radio confirmed sightings of the enemy and some were even locked into firefights. Erik and the Panzer III took the most roundabout way to gain a flank advantage on the enemy, their task was to hunt stragglers, other hunters, and scouts.

The hunting aspect of the task given to Erik and his crew was going to be much simpler in the night, as the Infra-Red optics gave an immediate advantage over every other tank fielded in the match. Camo-netting was carried on both the Panther and the Panzer III, and any other camouflage needed could be taken off of nearby foliage to help blend in.

Once the two medium tanks dug in at the flanking point, Erik radioed-in to Maho.

"Erik to Miss Nishizumi," Erik had the headphones pulled over his ears and the microphone held to his mouth.

"_What is it, Erik?_" Maho's voice came clear through the headphones, seeming almost a little impatient.

"Arrived at point A-M-9-4, requesting additional orders."

"_Move North-East into the forest at A-N-6-0 and wait. You'll set up there and await further instructions_."

"Jawohl Frau Kommandant." Erik began removing the headset.

"_Before you go, Erik_."

"Yes?"

"_Stay safe_." With the final two words out, Maho ended the transmission. Letting out a long sigh, Erik took the headset down to around his neck.

"That girl worries too much..." The blonde commander holstered his Luger and put the extra ammunition into the inside pockets of his jacket. He leaned into the cupola and lifted the binoculars up, and looked through the forest they needed to traverse through. "We're going to the edge of that forest and setting up. Klaus, move North, North-East for 250 metres."

"Jawohl." The driver replied quickly and pushed the Panther into gear. He drove the tank down into the forest North of their original position. The Panzer III trailed closely behind.

Inside the turret, Wolfgang and Jorge were having a friendly conversation. Something about the politics of the world in this timeline, the tone was very much relaxed as they spoke to one another. Erik couldn't catch most of it so he retreated back inside to listen to their conversation. Wolfgang had his phone out and was scrolling through some news outlet that spoke about the political standings of Europe. It was a lot more different from what they knew, and it wasn't something they could do anything about.

"Germany lost a lot of land... I guess they lost the war then, pitiful." Jorge sighed, his burly arms crossed over his chest. This caused an amused huff from the commander and a weak laugh from the gunner.

"We won the war, we aren't even in the same league as the Germans in this world." Erik leaned to his left and looked over the shoulder of the gunner at the phone screen.

"I'm sure there are still some in this world that share the same ideas, yet there are defeatists too..." Wolfgang kept reading the German news stories, flicking through random, pointless ones and focusing more on the military and political stories.

"It doesn't matter, we're here in this unfortunate world and there isn't anything we can do about it. We just have to deal with what we have and make the most out of it. We live to fight and we fight to live. We live for Germany and Germany lives for us. All we can do is let the victory of the German Empire live on inside us. As long as we live, Germany's victory does too." Erik wore a proud face, his face bright and filled with determination for the victory of Germany, and also Kuromorimine.

"Well said, Herr Standartenfuhrer! This is why you're our commander!" Jorge cheered, a huge smile now on his face. Wolfgang seconded the cheer, the morale of the crew seemed to rise a lot after Erik's speech. Klaus was also listening, his cheer had mixed in with Wolfgang's.

"Indeed, and it was bestowed upon me by the Fuhrer himself. A day I'll never forget. I'm a hero in my village and the Nation loves me, however I couldn't have done it all without you three." Erik patted the shoulders of his gunner and loader, and of course was out of range to thank Klaus.

"It was our pleasure, Herr." Wolfgang responded with a light-hearted smile and a nod.

"Anyway," Erik changed the mood quite quickly with a curt response, "we should almost be at the setting point." Erik lifted himself up from the commanders seat and looked out of the cupola. Looking behind him, he saw the Panzer III following with ease, and the commander waved sweetly at him. Lifting a bored hand in reply to the girl, Erik turned his concentration on the thick forest that lay ahead of them.

The hunting team had to travel carefully through to the overwatch position, barely missing trees and almost getting stuck in a few ditches. Most of the crews had to jump out to help the tanks traverse through the dank foliage of the woodlands. All the hardships of getting to the position was worth it when they eventually made it. The view was on the top of a hill, the forest stopped just as a 30 degree decline started. There were rocks and dense bushed lining the edge of the forest.

The colours were of dark greens and browns, perfect for the Panther as it was already painted in a dull forest camouflage. The only shines that could be found on the Panther were from the optics and the rifling of the barrel. The Panzer III, on the other hand, required a lot of branches and bushes to conceal its position some 25 metres away from the Panther.

The Panther had set up behind some low rocks and tall bushes. If you happened to come across the Panther from the other side of the forest, then all you would see was the muzzle flash, and your doom. It was put into a hull-down position, and the turret could hardly be seen from the road below. Klaus had been tasked with scouting out down the hill and on the other side of the low valley and check the possible directions enemies could come from.

Whilst Klaus was on the mission, Jorge and Wolfgang were sitting in the turret of the Panther, all hatches open and the ventilation fully open. They were playing cards, what specifically they were playing was something Erik didn't care about. The camouflage for the Panther had been completed and it was simply just a matter of time until the enemy crossed their path.

Their weapons were loaded, and they were prepared for whatever Jason planned on throwing at them.

Erik flushed Jason out of his mind when Jorge shouted victoriously, quickly followed by laughter from both of the turret crew members. A deep sigh was let out by Erik as he pushed himself off the crate he was sitting on. He promptly appeared at the loaders hatch at the back of the turret and glared at the two boys playing cards.

"Shut up. Stay quiet. I don't care if it's daylight and it's unlikely they would hear us, but I don't want to risk it. So shut the fuck up." Erik's light blue eyes pierced into the card-players, instantly demolishing any defenses they had attempted to put up. Both of them hung their heads in submission, nodding slowly to the commands of Erik.

"Es tut mir leid, Herr Standartenfuhrer. It was my fault." Jorge tried to apologise and take most of the blame, but the ice-cold stare of their commander held no empathy.

"I don't care. Now come set up the radio so we can establish a communication line with HQ." Erik hopped off the hull and onto the grass beside the Panther.

"Jawohl." The other two crew members clambered out of the turret and closed the commander's hatch, leaving the loader's open. The Panther was now left alone as the three blonde boys sat around a small wooden desk with a heavy-looking radio placed on top of it. Jorge sat down on a fold-out wooden chair in front of the radio and began tweaking some of the dials. Wolfgang pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket and started citing it for Jorge. Just moments after the two of them began setting up the radio, some transmissions broke through, but they weren't HQ's.

"Herr Standartenfuhrer!" Jorge called out to the commander, but he was nowhere to be seen. "Where did he go off to? He was right here wasn't he?"

"I think so, he was watching over my shoulder, I know that." Wolfgang stepped away from the radio and looked around the area they were in. It was a small grassy area that seemed perfect for setting up a forward operations base. It was only about 7 to 8 metres in diameter but it could fit most, if not all, of the tent and cooking supplies they had brought with them. The dense forest lay back a few metres, and could be hardly seen through.

Jorge stayed sitting in the chair, with the headset over his ears. He tried to piece together what the other teams were talking about, and tried to enhance the connection that he was trying to get.

"You stay here, I'll go look for the commander." Wolfgang pulled on his cap and straightened his jacket, his first place to go to was the Panzer III crew and ask if they've seen him.

"Alright, good luck. I think..." Jorge continued to tweak some of the dials, not giving a care for anything else at the moment.

Wolfgang clambered over some bracken and low bushes, making his way over to the girls about 25 metres away from their position. Silently swearing to himself and getting his boots muddied, he ventured on past some more hedgerows. Once he got to the Panzer III, he saw all five girls sitting on the engine deck of the Panzer eating some food and happily chatting to one another.

"Hey, which of you is the commander?" the gunner asked, nearly tripping over a tree root that was poking out of the ground. A black-haired girl poked her head up and raised her hand.

"I am. What do you need?" The commander leaned past one of the other girls to look at Wolfgang. Now that all five girls were looking at him, Wolfgang felt a little prideful.

"I would like to know if you've seen my commander, the short blonde guy." Motioning to where Erik stood compared to him, he moved his hand in a position which was almost shoulder-height to him. Some of the girls whispered amongst each other, one even giggled. Wolfgang will probably regret mentioning his height later on, but it was important at the moment.

"Yeah, he went off that way with a radio in his hand. Do you know what he's going to do?" The commander pointed south, behind the tank into the thick forest and back from where they came.

"No, but thanks for letting me know." Wolfgang turned away and stepped around some more flora, only before pausing and looking back at the girl commander. "What's your name?"

"Hm? Me? I'm Maru Ichiwara. What's yours?" The girl fidgeted on the spot, her cheeks reddening from the sudden question.

"Wolfgang Hertz," he bowed to her with grace, "pleasure to make your acquaintance." He saluted to her in a very chivalrous manner with a wink and walked away. Maru watched him leave with a sense of confusion and perhaps even some attraction to the foreign boy. The other crew members of the Panzer III started commenting on the moment that just passed, much to the embarrassment of their commander.

Wolfgang trekked through the dense forest, having to take the bayonet from the sheath at the left of his hip and whacking some branches out of the way. He was beginning to compare this forest to a jungle, but he couldn't accurately do it because he's never been in a jungle before.

"How long has it been since I've actually been with a girl?" the gunner asked himself, looking ahead of him with purpose. He pondered the question for a while, then realised he's lead a pretty lonely life since that one time. That one time was during the final year of primary school and he 'went out' with an Austrian girl for a couple of weeks. He never saw her after three weeks of getting to know her. Left without a trace. He even asked about her family to the school, and they ignored his questions.

It wasn't until he went home and heard on the radio that the Nazi Party had taken over in the Reichstag, he started to understand. You can only imagine why she and her family had mysteriously disappeared.

"Herr Standartenfuhrer! Where did you go?" Wolfgang was beginning to get lost as he went further south. Was he still following the original direction that Maru had pointed him in? Minutes passed and he was starting to lose hope. Maybe he should just turn back, the commander will show up eventually, right? And a radio? Why did he have a radio with him?

Rustling suddenly came from his right. Wolfgang quickly unholstered his pistol and ducked down. He pulled back the slide and loaded a bullet. He slowly began inching closer to the rustling and heard a voice. Inaudible, but familiar. It was a man's voice. Wolfgang got ever so closer, trying incredibly hard not to give away his position.

_"-no, I don't care about that. So what if it's expensive, I can pay for it, I've got the money - eh? What do you mean it's unnecessary? -so you think it's pointless if I buy that? Come on, it's all for a bit of fun don't you see?"_ There was a long pause, it felt like minutes to Wolfgang as he sat crouched behind a tree some several metres away.

_"-your sister? what about her? -oh. I see. -no, don't worry about it. This is the first time in a while that this has happened. -yeah. I'll see what I can do. -yep. Where are you right now? -ah, right."_ The voice paused again, probably looking at a map. Wolfgang decided to cease the opportunity and look at the person. He arched his neck around the tree trunk and search. His suspicions were correct. It was the commander, sitting on a fallen tree, with a slim smile on his face. It would be weird to say that it was pure, but it wasn't a cold smile that he'd get when they were turning crews into swiss cheese, or felling a bridge with a battalion of soldiers on it. No, this smile was... _genuine happiness! _

_"-I should probably go now. -talk to you later Maho." _Erik pulled the headset down from his ears and onto his neck. He closed his eyes and leaned his head backward. The spring sun highlighted everything, not only the forest and grasslands around them but the features of the stern blonde boy. He seemed, content. Happy. Relaxed. Did Miss Nishizumi really have this effect on someone as cold as this? Erik would grin whenever Wolfgang hit deadly shots on targets, even more so when he could hear the cries of men in pain, suffering.

You know it's bad when even the SS worry about the sanity of their officers. Erik once received a letter of complaint from a general in the SS concerning the mental health of Erik and if he was fit for duty. As Erik is a proud and stubborn man, he reported the letter to Minister Goebbels (who was in the same room at the time of him receiving the letter) as a way of trying to get him to step down from his duty as a soldier. Erik made it sound more meaningful and was a lot more complex, but Wolfgang had forgotten most of the smaller details.

Essentially, a tank commander was able to get an SS General shot for treason. Somehow. No one in Erik's Panzer Battalion could believe it at first when he gave them the news. _They wouldn't believe it._ Erik was a demon in human skin. The gleaming eyes that shone on that morning struck fear into the crews that looked up at him. For someone who was younger than most of the Panzer crews, he instilled pure hatred in the enemy and a willingness to fight in the German people who heard of his exploits in war.

Erik was deemed a hero in some parts of Germany. He wasn't a national treasure or a household name, but he was well-known. At such a young age, too.  
Before the transportation to the new world, Erik was younger than Wolfgang. Younger than Jorge. Younger than Klaus.

Younger than Herbert.

However, when they were moved, they suddenly all became 18 years old. All of them. Their birth dates were the same, through the months, Erik was technically older than Herbert and Jorge now.

Wolfgang lowered himself down further when Erik got up from the fallen tree trunk. The commander shoved the bulky radio into a haversack and slung one strap over his shoulder. Erik's facial expression had dulled down back to the plain, bored look. Wolfgang had many questions floating around in his head, and most of them will probably go unanswered for a long time. One question seemed the biggest to him, '_why was he calling Miss Nishizumi?' _There were many questions put into the queue after that one but that was the most prominent at the moment. He desperately wanted to find out what was going on between his commander and the heir to the Nishizumi style, but he'll just have to start his own spy mission. Somehow.

When Wolfgang looked back to where Erik was last standing, he was nowhere to be found. Gone. There was no rustling getting further away or any twigs breaking under boots. Almost complete silence, bar some birds and the gentle swaying of the leaves in the trees.

Serene.

Wolfgang waited a moment and scanned his environment before he got back up. He was worried about if Erik had heard him or seen him eavesdropping on his conversation, but since Erik hasn't shot him or stabbed him yet, he had some hope. Slowly inching his way back to a standing position, Wolfgang glanced around one more time before heading back in the direction he thinks is the right way.

_Why was he talking to Miss Nishizumi? Why were they talking about money? And her sister? She has a sister? _

_What could this all be about?_

He made his way back to the Panzer III after some 15 minutes of 'I'm not lost' and 'this didn't take me 15 minutes last time' just to be greeted with Erik talking to the crew. Wolfgang stopped midstep as one of the girls noticed he was there. She pointed to him and everyone turned to look.  
'_Fuck' _Wolfgang thought as Erik shot him a skeptical look.

"Where did you go?" Asked Erik, adjusting the bag strap on his shoulder.

"I went to find out where you went. You left without letting us know."

"You're an idiot. I don't have to tell you everything I'm doing, do I?" Erik shoved his hands into his trouser pockets and seemed to fiddle with something in his left hand.

"No, uh He-... Erik," Wolfgang suddenly remembered why he was pursuing the commander. "I wanted to talk to you about something we got on the radio. Jorge came across something."

"Came across something? You mean a frequency that isn't used by us?" A dirty blonde eyebrow raised on Erik's face. He seemed intrigued.

"Jawohl. It sounded like tank positions to me. About half an hour ago we came across it. Jorge might have plotted some points down already." A finger was pointed to the direction of the Panther, and where Jorge and Klaus were probably listening in on enemy transmissions.

"Are you spying on the enemy?" Maru piped up, now standing beside the Panzer III next to Erik.

"Yes. It said in the rules that we can use tactics like this since it is not a tournament, but instead a mil-sim match." Wolfgang stepped closer to the Panzer, now preferring standing on grass rather than the uneven forest floor.

"I see. May I come with you? To listen, of course."

"I don't see why not. We'll be here for quite a while, so why don't you have lunch and dinner with us today as well?" Erik looked to his left, and hardly looked down to meet the eyes of the black-haired girl. She smiled and nodded.

"Sounds good, thank you!" She turned towards the other four girls. "Otsu, come with me will you?"

"Ok, commander!" A short, brown-haired girl slid off of the engine deck and landed gracefully next to Maru. She threw up a salute and beamed a huge smile. "I'm Otsu! I'm the radio operator! Nice to meet you!"

Erik and Wolfgang stood with furrowed brows. The personality of this girl was too happy and excitable for them to handle. The two of them understood instantly why she was the radio operator, because she was a people person and she enjoyed talking. It was kind of obvious. With a heavy sigh, Erik lead the girls past the hedgerows and through some forest to the Panther.

When they arrived a minute later, they saw Jorge sitting at the table like before. Nothing out of the ordinary so far. With further inspection, they found Klaus sitting on a crate behind the table shaving his face. A small mirror was leaned up against the radio and a small bowl of water was trapped between his knees so he could clean the blade.

"Hm? oh, they're back." Klaus cleaned off the blade and waved towards the small group. Jorge, with his back turned to them, noticed the driver's movements and turned to look. Indeed they were, he waved to them and picked up a little pile of paper he had made. "Has Wolfgang updated you on what has happened?"

"Yeah, he said you got onto an enemy frequency. What have they been saying?" Erik and Maru stood either side of Jorge's chair. Erik leaned in and picked up a spare headset.

"Some positions of defenses and some planned attacks. Nothing near here, but they did talk of a scouting party lead by a Chaffee."

"A Chaffee? When did Saunders get a Chaffee?" Maru asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Hm? Oh, at the start of the year. It's a male crew, like ours... kind of." Jorge answered the question as Erik flicked through the papers next to Jorge. He didn't seem to care about the conversation.

"I see, so there's a chance that we might prey upon a scouting team?" The girl commander questioned, perplexed.

"Yes, but I doubt there's anything to worry about. The armour on the Chaffee is incredibly light and it's a surprisingly large light tank. Its gun is quite good, so we should only show it our front armour if it comes to it." As he read some of the papers, Erik explained to the two of them the effectiveness of the Chaffee and its qualities.

"Wolfie! Get me a cloth would you?" Klaus shouted at Wolfgang, who was climbing up into the turret of the Panther.

"Sure!" Leaning out of the loader's hatch, Wolfgang grabbed a small package out of a bustle and chucked it at the driver. Klaus caught it with one hand and unwrapped it, revealing a fluffy white cloth.

"Cleanliness is next to Godliness, as the British would say," stated Klaus whilst he washed his face. Erik just stared at him with bored, half-lidded eyes. Klaus chuckled nervously.

Wolfgang settled in the gunner's position in the Panther, looking through the optics. Currently, no sign of any movement. This gave him time to think. Not just about the thing that may or may not be going on between Erik and Miss Nishizumi, but with the girl commander Maru. She was cute, he couldn't deny that, but the school year was almost over and he will be going back to Germany soon. It would be just like that three-week relationship he had those several years ago; not that he can call it a proper relationship anyway. Maybe if he told Maru before he left, or gave her something to show that he thinks of her, then they could stay in contact. It would seem pointless as they are separated by two oceans on one side and two whole continents on the other.

_'Sigh' _Wolfgang leaned into the wall of the turret and closed his eyes. It's time to wait for company.

* * *

**I wanted to take a break from writing this for a little while but I realised I enjoy writing this too much. Perhaps in the future I might actually have this go on hiatus so I can focus on other stuff that isn't this. I love writing for this and I'm constantly thinking about its story and characters.**

**Tbh, I've already started thinking about what will happen in many chapters to come, so these will continue to come out relatively often. I hope this chapter was ok, I wanted to centralise it on Erik and his crew so there was a little more backstory and insight into how they work together. **

**Erik is still an arsehole, that won't be changing any time soon.**

**As always, please leave a review!**


	12. 12

**A small farm in the Scottish highlands, 1920**

"Jason? How d'ye get so muddy? Have ye ben rollin' roond in the mud ageen?" A beautiful, orange-haired woman leaned down towards a small boy of maybe 12 years of age. She took a cloth out of her apron pocket and wiped some dirt off of his face. Her eyes were a pure grass-green colour, her face was plump and covered in freckles. Her full lips were always seen smiling and a soft, round nose separated green from pink. Her hair fell down to below her shoulders in perfect orange curls, held back by a brass brooch at the back of her head.

"No, Ah jus' fell over in the fields. Its ben raining!" Young Jason wiped his mud-stained hands on his overalls, looking up at his mother with a grin.

"Has it now? I didnae hear no rain." Jason's mother made a thinking face, looking out at the clouds in the sky.

"Well ther was rain! I was chasin' a wee piggy that go' away! Pappy told me to go fetch et." Jason's gaze turned around the kitchen, checking if his father was anywhere to be seen

"Did ye catch et?" His mother continued to wipe down the boys face and neck, sometimes dipping the cloth in a bowl of water to clean it.

"Aye! It's back wi' ets family now!" An innocent light could be found in Jason's young eyes. He was naive to the world in his young years, innocent of all harmful knowledge. his mother made sure of it, she wanted to protect her wee bairn.

"Well done, Jason. Would ye like a wee bikky?" After cleaning her son's face, she pushed the cloth back into her apron pocket. She reached up above the kitchen counter and opened a cupboard, looking inside.

"Can I, can I? Yes please, Ma!" Jason hopped happily around his mother, trying to look into the wooden furniture she had reached her arms into.

"Awlrite, jus' one though, else yer Father will be upset." Jason's mother gently brought down a jar of a dozen brown biscuits from the cupboard. She unlatched the lid and picked one out with a forefinger and a thumb. His mother handed it to him, and he eagerly and excitedly took it in both hands.

"Thank you!" Jason exclaimed, scoffing down the biscuit in only a couple of seconds.

"Yer a good boy, Jason. Stay this way forever will ya'?" His mother wiped a loose strand of red hair out of his face, then stroked his cheek.

"Naw! Ah wan'tae grow big and travel the world!" Jason threw his arms up, to show how much taller he wanted to grow.

"Mm? Is that so? How are ye going to dae that then?" Jason's mother pulled out a chair from under the dining table and sat on it. She patted her lap and Jason placed himself on her knees. She wrapped an arm around his back, with the other hand playing with his fiery red locks. Jason leaned into his mother's bosom, explaining to her in great detail (the best detail a 12-year-old boy can get) how he will travel the world and see the deserts of Arabia, the tropics of the Mediterranean, the jungles of South America, and so many more.

The next day, Jason and his mother went into town to buy groceries. The same day his mother wore long sleeves and a collar that covered her neck. The same day that because of Jason's immaturity, it took his mother away from him. He wasn't the only one that blamed himself for her death. His father, his mother's mother, his uncle. The only other people that were sympathetic to him were his aunt and his cousin. He only met the rest of his family during the funeral, and never saw them again. He didn't know he had family other than his parents, so it was a surprise to him to see a child the same age as him and in the same family.

He had a cruel father, Robert Carlisle was a horrid man. How he and Jason's mother came to like each other was always a question that lingered in Jason's mind.

Olivia Stevenson died an early death. She didn't deserve such an evil fate. Jason said that it should have been him, that his parents could be happy if he was the one who died in her stead.

4 years of self-hate carried Jason into growing up and maturing. All for his dead mother. The mother that he'll never see again. He'd never be able to get rewarded with biscuits for behaving, never be bathed by the caring hands, never have his face washed after a meal, never be pulled into a love-filled embrace ever again.

Never again will he be loved.

* * *

"Fuck!" Jason awoke from a nightmare, dripping in sweat and breathing heavily. "fuck..." Recalling the fever dream, he leaned forward and hid his face in his hands. He slicked back his fiery red hair and looked around himself. He was in an olive-green tent, drenched in darkness. His clothes were in a pile in the corner, his revolver hung in the holster from the ceiling and the lamp he used sat on top of a crate beside him.

Jason got out of the sleeping bag and pulled on his beige t-shirt, his dirtied tank oversuit, then his brown boots. Instead of wearing it fully, he tied the oversuit around his waist and let the upper-half hang by his legs. Jason grabbed his Webley and stuffed it into his left trouser pocket, along with twelve extra rounds of ammunition. He reached into his jacket pocket, which was bundled up with some other clothes on a crate and grabbed two items. He folded back the door to the tent and stepped outside. It's been 18 hours since the beginning of the mil-sim match, and no enemies have been seen yet.

It was still night-time, so most people would be asleep. Jason could hear two low voices in Charles' tent, and there was a light on inside it. He chose to ignore it and walked away from the small encampment made by the side of the Firefly and two other tanks: A Black Prince and a Churchill VII. All three tanks were hidden behind a long hedgerow, as part of a rear defense line for the scouts and front-line Comets.

Wiping some sweat off his brow, the Firefly Captain looked around his surroundings to make sure that no one saw where he was going. The coast was clear. Jason retreated some 50 metres away from the tanks, taking a seat on a rock that overlooked a pond. With shaking hands, he pulled out a box of cigarettes. He picked one out and placed it between his lips. Jason flicked out his lighter and cupped the flame as he lit the end of the cigarette.

He took one, long drag and rolled his eyes up to the starry skies. It was peaceful, and the black canvas of the night sky was littered with billions of tiny white, blue and pink specks. Jason never took much time to appreciate the night sky, and now that he was out in the middle of some woodlands in the countryside of Japan, he had all the time in the world.

Jason propped up his left knee and leaned his left elbow onto it. He took the cigarette in his mouth out with his left hand and puffed rings into the sky. Soon, his hands stopped shaking. He breathed in a deep breath, closing his eyes and taking in the surroundings he was in. The quiet serenity of the grass, the leaves and the branches swaying in the midnight air soothed his senses.

Everything about that nightmare had gone, and sweeter memories filled his conscience. He looked back and barely saw the turret to the Black Prince. He imagined Darjeeling, Orange and Assam talking about tea, or the end of year exams. Two completely different things, but he could imagine them talking about them at similar times.

Jason laid down on the rock and stared into the night sky, watching and trying to work out constellations.

"Didn't I tell you that you should stop smoking?" A sweet voice whispered from the bushes behind him, causing him to jerk up in surprise.

"Didnah tell ye not tae sneak up on me?" Jason wore a large smile when he saw who it was. Darjeeling was walking towards him, dressed in her red coat, black skirt, and black boots.

"You may have done once or twice." She sat down to the right of him, looking down into the pond. "I heard you shout a few minutes ago, I wasn't sure if it was just my mind playing with me or I had actually heard you so it took me a while to see you."

"It's alright. Jus' a nightmare. Nothin' t'be worried 'bout."

"Would you like to talk about it?" Darjeeling wrapped an arm around his waist and leaned her head on his shoulder. Her sky-blue eyes were half-lidded, watching the lilies in the pond float about.

"Jus' a dream 'bout my Ma, nothin' out the ordinary," equally, Jason leaned into Darjeeling and pulled his right arm over her shoulders.

"I see. Nothing different this time then?"

"Well, I keep imaginin' my Mother's death, but how would I know if she's actually dead or not?" A solemn and conflicted look appeared on Jason's countenance, defining his sharp features in a saddened manner.

"When was the last time you spoke to her?" Darjeeling placed a warm, caring hand on Jason's thigh, averting her gaze from the pond and up at his distressed face.

"I don't know..."

"Maybe you should try giving her a call. That might ease your-"

"Cannae do that." Exhaling heavily, Jason shook his head. "I'm sorry, but it's not that simple for me."

"No, I should be apologising, I shouldn't have pushed so far." Darjeeling leaned away from Jason, her eyes moving elsewhere. Jason turned his head towards hers and scanned her soft features. He leaned in and planted a chaste kiss to her cheek, using his arm to pull her in closer. Darjeeling, shocked and embarrassed, quickly turned her head towards him. "Eh?!"

As it was quite dark, Jason could barely make out a deep red blush on her cheeks. He smirked and watched her reaction. Darjeeling quickly recovered and returned his smirk with a sweet smile. She raised her right hand to his cheek and softly held him. Both of them looked deeply into each other's eyes, watching closely and leaning in ever so slowly. Her eyes darted down to his lips, and then back to his

Jason moved his right arm down to her hip, holding her waist in his palm. Darjeeling took her left hand and held the back of his head. They leaned in closer.

A love-filled, heartfelt, compassionate kiss was shared between Jason and Darjeeling. The setting was perfect for it, sitting below the moon and the stars, surrounded by lush foliage and a clean pond. Seconds felt like minutes as they created a moment neither of them would ever forget, their first kiss.

Darjeeling pulled back first, opening her eyes and watching the boy in front of her, seeing what actions he'll take. She knew that both of them wanted to kiss, so she wasn't that embarrassed, perhaps she can take the initiative for the next one too. Jason smiled at her, a warm, inviting smile. It quickly turned into a boyish grin when he looked at Darjeeling.

"Jason?"

"Yes?"

"I love you."

"I love you too."

"I'll always try and be there for you, you know that don't you?"

"Of course, and I for you."

"Good..."

The couple pressed their foreheads together, both smiling away at each other. There wasn't ever a moment before that they had ever been closer. It felt now that their adventure was only just beginning, however, the school year was coming to an end and they'll have to say goodbye to the St Gloriana schoolship, the HMS Ark Royal. The week-long match will be the last for all of the third years participating. Whether or not they join a university that practices Sensha-do is entirely up to them, and even the wider world is taking up tank sports.

It was learned that the university that Darjeeling had applied to was planning on undertaking Sensha-do as an extra-curricular for the students to take on. For Darjeeling, she was wondering if she should leave Tankery in Japan, or if she should start anew in a world she is so unfamiliar with. Well, by that time she'll have Jason touring her around the United Kingdom, so it won't be that difficult in the first year or so.

Jason didn't apply to any universities in the UK because he claimed that education wasn't for him, which was a half-lie as he just didn't like the routine of school; Getting up early in the day, getting ready, going to school, taking lessons, maybe have a break or two, have more lessons, go home, do homework or study, take some time for yourself, dinner, sleep. He found that that routine was incredibly boring and he'd much rather have a more flexible and eccentric career.

He considered 'rejoining' the army and the Armoured Tank Corps, but that would leave Darjeeling on her own. Jason didn't want Darjeeling to worry about him, so he crossed off joining the army. He made one final conclusion after a few days' thinking, and that he'd job-seek once he made sure his mother was alive and well. She took priority, and his father wasn't even considered.

"You should get back to sleep, I'll be fine out here," Jason placed his hands on Darjeeling's small waist, moving his eyes to meet hers.

"Not yet, I want to spend some more time with you," Darjeeling pushed herself closer to his chest, moving his hands to the small of her back. She wrapped her arms around his waist and nestled her head into his neck. Jason let out a little chuckle and accepted the warm hug. He hugged her back and leaned his head into hers.

"I cannae say no to that, can I?" Jason softly rubbed her back, and she shook her head. He chuckled once again. "I'm such a pushover for you." Hearing this, Darjeeling smiled and closed her eyes, listening to the heartbeat of the boy she's fallen in love with.

They spent 20 more minutes together with each other until Darjeeling decided to go back to her 'bed' and get some actual sleep. Twice she had accidentally fallen asleep on Jason, he was abnormally warm and comfortable so it was difficult to not hug him and fall asleep on him. _Just like a cuddly orange-haired teddy bear._

"Goodnight, Jason. I'll see you in the morning." Darjeeling stepped towards her crew's encampment, the opposite direction to Jason's.

"It is already the morning isn't it?" Jason pulled up his right wrist and squinted his eyes at the watch. He nodded and confirmed his assumption.

"Oh, well... I'll see you in a few hours then?"

"A few hours then, Goodnight," a goofy grin found its way onto Jason's face as the two of them parted and went into their separate tents, both wanting desperately to relive the past 40 minutes over and over again. Those thoughts will eventually become a reality, but not just yet.

* * *

**A/N: I'm not sorry about the long wait, but I feel like this chapter is lacking in some parts. I'll make sure the next chapter is beefy and is filled with action, also expect the introduction of a new character! Also, Jason x Darjeeling? Eh? Eh? I love it, it's cute. **


	13. 13

Tranquil, calm, serene. These words can describe the countryside, and yet many more can perfectly illustrate it. The lush green fields roll over the countless hills and mounds and the emerald treetops scour the landscape to protect anything underneath them. There was a cool breeze gently flowing through the air, and the leaves and the blades of grass waved harmlessly around as if they were being massaged by the air. The birds chirped gracefully and happily as if nothing could possibly disturb them.

Breaking the perfect silence, a series of cacophonous explosions came barrelling down the countryside. A fast-moving tank ripped up the ground beneath it as it raced across the fields, being followed by even more explosions.

"Davay! I thought I told you to take other route, cyka!" The commander of the tank, Dmitri, tried hard not to hit himself on the turret of the T-34/85 as it bounced along the green countryside.

"This is other route!" Yelled the driver, yanking back one of the levers to dodge a shell.

"Oy blyat..." Once again, Dmitri steadied himself, bracing himself against the metal to look through his cupola. The gunner squeezed the trigger and fired off a shell in retaliation, but it missed, and only seemed to get even more shells in reply.

"We can't get rid of tanks that are faster than us! What should we do?" Swerving through different fields and ditches, Dmitri's driver was sweating from the constant actions.

"Get into that forest and we'll hide! Those Germans and their terrible tracks and transmissions won't be able to follow us in!" Dmitri pointed towards an incredibly dense-looking forest that could perfectly hide their tank from the pursuing tanks.

"Da!" The driver pulled back on the left stick and pulled the T-34/85 down along a ditch, causing the rest of the crew even more distress. The Russian tank sprinted along the ditch and broke through some bushes to jump into the forest, collapsing a small tree in the process. The T-34/85 rocked as it jumped over a stream and into another few smaller trees, disrupting the wildlife and flora all around.

If the tanks that used to be chasing them had anything to follow to get them, it would be the destruction they left behind in their wake. However, what Dmitri had said earlier came to be true, some of the Panther transmissions broke down trying to get through the ditches and the thick mud. As a result of the mud, the T-34 had a natural camouflage and could easily hide in a little cave. There was also a layer of vines covering the cave entrance so even if the thick brown layer of mud didn't help, then the green and grey vines could.

"Well then... let's hope they don't find us," Dmitri opened his cupola hatch and jumped out of the tank, landing abruptly on a hard stone floor.

"We did make lots of fake paths for them to follow, I'm sure it will be fine," Vasily, Dmitri's brother, tiredly said as he climbed out of the tank after the driver.

"You say it's fine but girls usually have better eyesight than boys," Yuri, the driver, walked to the back of the tank and unlocked one of the bustle racks above the tracks.

"That is just propaganda comrade, you don't actually believe in stuff like that do you?" Dmitri walked deeper into the cave they found themselves in, raising his gaze to the roof and the jagged rocks.

"Interesting place you found us, Comrade Dmitri, looks like we could wait here for little while until the enemy has left us alone," Yuri placed a congratulative hand on the commander's shoulder, patting it a few times.

"Ha, and how long do you think that will take?" Dmitri faced his driver, smiling and shaking his head.

"Hopefully not long, Sweet Sasha is waiting for me out there somewhere," Yuri looked longingly out to the cave entrance, his eyes filled with hope.

"You've managed to find a girl already?"

"It has been year since we got here. Don't expect me to sit around and do nothing. You have found girl too, no? I'm sure Non-" Dmitri playfully punched Yuri's arm before he could say anything further, resulting in laughter coming from the driver.

"That's where you stop," a serious look replaced Dmitri's usual jovial one, but it quickly turned into a smile matching Yuri's.

"Haha, alright, alright."

Mischa and Grigory, the gunner and loader respectively, were both sitting on the turret of the T-34/85 and had already started their lunches. Chowing down on some of Vasily's homemade chebureki, the two turret crew members happily talked to each other about one of their classes.

"Mischa! Grigory! What do you two think you're doing? Lazing about already?" Dmitri placed his hands on his hips, looking up at the two boys with a raised eyebrow.

"I apologise, Comrade Dmitri, what can we do?"

"You two, since you're obviously ready to go for a walk, will take a pair of binoculars, a pencil and map, and go and scout this forest we're in," followed by a small chuckle, Dmitri walked away from the now-sulking gunner and loader.

"Yes, Comrade." Mischa and Grigory tucked away their food and slid off the turret onto the hard grey ground.

"Oh, before you go..." Dmitri fetched something from a bag that hung off the turret.

"Yes?" Mischa turned towards the commander, tilting his head slightly.

"Take these, and look out for that fucking Panther." Dmitri handed the boys two TT-33 handguns, both loaded.

"Da, Comrade Dmitri." Both of them saluted their commander before turning and leaving the cave. Before long, Mischa and Grigory were outside marking up where they were and any escape routes they could take.

"Wasn't Comrade Dmitri talking to that British commander before the match started? Any idea what they were talking about?" Mischa drew a circle on the map and then an arrow pointing south-east towards suspected enemy positions.

"All I got was was that we might need to use our guns. My English isn't that good. I think they said something else about meeting with the Americans too." The other tanker had climbed up a tree after they reached the southside edge of the forest.

"The Americans? That already sounds like a bad idea." Mischa folded up the map and looked out across the green fields.

"Heh," Grigory scoffed, "tell me about it." A minute passed and nothing had happened. There were no roaring engines or cannons popping, only the sweet birdsong and the waving of the leaves on the trees.

"See anything up there?" Mischa leaned his head back to look up at the boy in the tree, shading his eyes from the sun with his fingers.

"Nope, but I don't expect to see anything soon. I have strange feeling Kuro left us alone, or we managed to lead them on false path. Either way, they aren't here now." Grigory passed the binoculars to Mischa then climbed down from the tree, landing with a small thud and disturbing a couple of fallen leaves.

"I don't like how quiet it is. Katyusha and Nonna should catch up to us soon, maybe few minutes now." The gunner looked down the binoculars out at the fields, not looking for anything in particular.

"Let's get back to Comrade Dmitri and others and we'll relay things we found." Patting Mischa's shoulder, Grigory started to walk back the way they came.

"Alright." Mischa turned away from the edge of the forest and suddenly a sixth sense awakened inside of him. Without a moment's hesitation, he grabbed the collar of Grigory's jacket and yanked him back.

The timing was perfect as a Panzer III rolled past at a speed of over 30 miles per hour, almost running over Grigory if it wasn't for Mischa. Another two Panzer III's followed the leader, all three completely unknowing to the Russian's existences. The two tankers looked at each other with a surprised look before sprinting towards the direction of the T-34/85's hiding place.

It took only a couple of minutes before they found the cave, running in panting and red-faced.

"Comrade Dmitri! We need to get out of here! Kuro have advanced and are in the forest!" Mischa leaned forward with his hands on his knees, trying desperately to catch his breath. Dmitri took a moment to let it sink in before calmly ordering everyone to get in the tank. Vasily and Yuri quickly jumped into the hull, starting the ignition of the engine and yanking the tank into gear. Next, clambered in Mischa and Grigory into the turret. Grigory loaded an armour-piercing round into the breach and Mischa adjusted his periscopes.

The T-34/85 was hastily made battle-ready as the four tankers showed their commander how speedily they can be ready. Dmitri pulled himself up the hull and turret, and then slid his legs into the cupola. Yuri traversed the hull and carefully drove out of the cave, he opened the hatch at the front as he drove.

The tank exited the cave as if it were some grand unveiling, the vines exposing every deadly part of the Russian medium as if it was being presented to the General Secretary himself. It raced through the forest, kicking up mud and grass in its pursuit of the German armoured vehicles. Soon, the exhausts of the tanks could be seen by Dmitri and Mischa was setting his sights on the rear of a Panzer III

"Fire when ready, Mischa."

"Da, Comrade," zeroing in on the softest part of the last tank, he held his breath and squeezed the trigger. The 85mm shell blasted through the trees and landed haphazardly in the back of the Kuromorimine tank, causing a white flag to sprout up from the turret. Grigory hurriedly punched in the next shell from the first-stage stowage as the leading two tanks that were still active turned towards them.

"Ready!"

"Fire!"

The next shell embedded into the rear armour of the leading Panzer III, slowing it down and cutting off the middle target. It fired off a shell towards the T-34/85 but ricocheted off the turret armour. The vibrations of the hit echoed through the turret crew, but they didn't slow down their actions.

"Loaded!"

"Hit them again, Mischa!"

"Got it!"

Another 85mm shell planted itself in the left cheek of the Panzer III's turret, and a white flag protruded from it. The final tank in the middle cowered behind a ridge, retreating away from the Russian medium assaulting their scouting party. Yuri jerked the tank forward and gave chase to the German tank, rocking along the uneven forest floor. Smaller trees fell and dirt mounds were flattened as the T-34/85 instantly caught up with the yellow-bellied Panzer III.

The 50mm barrel of the Panzer was trained on their hull, and it exploded. The shell was lobbed towards the green armour of the Russian medium and bounced with a shrieking reverberation. The Russian tank fired back and its shot abruptly slammed into the flat frontal armour of the Panzer, knocking it out immediately.

Yuri pulled back on the tillers and drove away from the knocked-out Panzer, leaving the girls to sulk to themselves. Kicking the tank forwards, Yuri headed out of the forest and towards where Katyusha had told them earlier to rendezvous at.

"Good shooting, Mischa. I'll buy you bottle of Vodka after match." Patting his gunner's shoulder, Dmitri smiled proudly down at him.

"Spasiba bol'shoy, Comrade Dmitri," Mischa grinned at his commander as he thanked him.

"Comrade Dmitri, what was Comrade Jason at Pravda's HQ for?" Grigory leaned on the breach of the gun, bracing himself every time the tank ran over uneven ground.

"Comrade Jason? Oh, the Scot. He warned me that male German crew could be dangerous, and we should bring our guns with us."

"I see... We have guns, don't we?"

"Yes, you and other three all have pistol for yourselves, whilst I have revolver. There are also two rifles hidden in bustles on back of turret and two submachineguns tucked next to Comrade Vasily. If we run out of ammunition for them, then we have the machineguns in the hull and the coax. If we run out for everything then... we must fight them with our fists," Dmitri paused, and then took in a deep breath, "I fear that the Germans have better skills and weapons than us, but I won't back down from a fight. Comrade Jason expressed his opinion about them quite seriously, so we should take it seriously too."

"Isn't there American crew too? Of boys?"

"Da, there is. We can't trust them either, but 'an enemy of my enemy is my friend', or however it goes. We are only working with them because they are fighting the Germans and they are friends with the British."

"Hm, so we should still be sceptical about them?"

"Of course, if we come across them you must not let your guard down at any given moment." Dmitri now raised his voice so the rest of the crew could hear him. "Got that? Never let your guard down!"

"URA!" The whole crew shouted in pride, still feeling an adrenaline rush from the firefight they just had in the forest. Most of the dirt that had conjured up on the hull of the tank had soon been shaken off, but it was still wholly dusty and looked like it had been in the field for over three months.

The T-34/85 bounced along the Japanese countryside, its white line that circled the turret and the red star printed boldly on both sides of the turret exclaimed the patriotism that was held within the five boys that worked in the tank. They lived and fought for Russia, now they must live and fight for Pravda, for Sensha-do, and for Japan.

* * *

"So yer tellin' me tha' yer gon' take a pish righ' noo?" Jason, sleep-deprived and fed-up, glared at his gunner as he clambered out of the turret.

"Yeah, unless you want me to take a piss in the tank?" Charles lifted himself into the cupola before Jason sighed a deep sigh of annoyance.

"This could prob'ly be the shittest timin' yer bladder decided to go pish." Leaving the turret so the gunner could get out too, Jason's dark bags under his eyes could be easily seen in the morning sun.

"It'll be fine, Sir. I'll be back in a minute." Hopping down to the green ground, Charles grinned up at his commander and slinked off behind some bushes.

"I'd 'av a laff if he pished 'imself." Jason let out a low chuckle, watching the direction Charles had gone to. Seamus simply just sighed and shook his head, thinking that he'd much rather be in a Comet or Darjeeling's Black Prince than in the Firefly. The reason for this is because his commander looked about ready to go back to sleep, the gunner had fucked off for a piss moments after a firefight, and the driver just pulled out a sandwich, leaving the tank virtually immobile.

"This is ridiculous," Seamus looked up at the roof of the turret, but initially was looking to the heavens, "God give me strength because I'm going fuckin' mad in this metal box."

Charles returned and settled in his seat, adjusted his sights and then leaned back to get comfortable. Jason slid back into the cupola and wrapped his fingers on the roof of the turret.

"Hey, Doug, didje' jus' get oot yer lunch?" Jason leaned forward, peering down at the driver's head whilst he ate his sandwich.

"Yup," Doug replied, finding his snack a bit more interesting than the words of his Captain.

"Get yer arse inte' gear will ye? We havnae time tae lose."

"Righto'," Quickly finishing the delectable foodstuff he made for himself, Doug started the engine and pushed the Firefly forward. It toppled over a ridge and landed with a slam, joining the ranks of two Comets and a Black Prince.

"You took your time, Mr Stevenson," Darjeeling exclaimed, a warm smile on her face. She tried hard not to comment on how rugged and tired he looked, but rather focused on the playful smile he gave her.

"Ye can blame me gunner fer that, let's get goin'," Knocking on the turret, the signal to his driver to advance, Jason saluted to the overall commander (and his girlfriend) of St Gloriana. The Black Prince started its engine and drove ahead of the Firefly, with the two Comets trailing behind. With the heaviest armour in the front, all three of the more agile tanks had something to hide behind if there were enemies to the front.

Although it can be argued that the combat effectiveness of the Comet is superior to the Firefly, the crew's skills and experience were vastly different. Jason's crew had a lot more experience being part of a tank crew than all of the girls. From mid-1930 to early 1934, Jason had been the gunner in a tank. Ever since 1934, he had been the commander of a tank. From 1938, he commanded a battalion until mid-1945.

Now, he commands a single tank but is the vice-vice-commander to a Sensha-do team. Even though he felt he didn't deserve having the unofficial title because he would be leaving the school in that year, he was proud that his - and his crew's - skills were recognised. His plans 'post-18' were finally actualised when the school forced him to talk about it, he had initially been staying away from those kinds of talks with the school but it eventually had to happen.

Once he 'graduated' and passed all of his studies, he'll be leaving Seamus, Charles, and Douglas in Japan to go home to Scotland. There, he'll find out whether his suspicions were right, or wrong. Then, after that, he'll enlist in some engineering apprenticeship near Cambridge, where Darjeeling had been accepted into, so he could still see her during her studies.

It was all extremely exciting, however, the graduation ceremony still had to be dealt with, then the travelling, and then the wait for the first term of school to start. There was a lot of waiting involved in what Jason and Darjeeling were getting into, but they believed that it was all worth it.

The weeklong match had been going on for over a day now and was expected to continue for another 5 days. Nothing like this had been done before, and it was hyped by the majority of Sensha-do girls. To the boys, it just seemed like a child's-play version of war. Germany against the Big Three? Only time can tell who the victors will be.

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"Rich, be a lad and turn that up will ya'?" A short brown-haired boy laid atop a turret that sat under the shade of a great Oaktree. It was hidden by thick layers of bushes and branches, its entire profile distorted due to the thick flora. The brunet boy fiddled with a silver coin between his fingers. He was dressed in a British tanker's uniform, with the dark-tan field jacket and the faded brown trousers tucked into his boots.

"Yessir," Rich, a boy dressed in a British tanker's oversuit, adjusted a dial on the radio making it louder and the voices coming from it easier to hear.

_"One Black Prince Heavy, two Comet Cruisers's and the Sherman Firefly are advancing south along the West forest, heading towards suspected Pravda reinforcements. Send one of the Jagdtigers, two Jagdpanthers and five Panther supports to intercept. This will be a difficult fight, good luck."_ The voice was easily recognised as the Overall vice-commander of Kuromorimine, Erika Itsumi. The transmission ended, and the boy on the turret grabbed a parchment from beside him.

"And here I thought I could get some more time to relax. Let's see... we're not that far away, are we? Excellent. Let's get going then, time to test out this baby." The boy on top of the turret picked up a steel rod and banged it against the tank three times. Three other boys quickly ran into view and hopped up onto the turret, opened the hatches and jumped inside. Two of the mentioned boys were wearing German tanker uniforms, black with red trimmings. The other one wore another British uniform, much like the brown-haired boy's.

'Rich' picked up the radio and slinked into the hull gunner's hatch of the tank. Next, clambered in a man dressed in a Russian tanker oversuit and a black shlemofon, sliding into the driver's hatch and hastily starting the ignition of the Allison-brand engine.

"Ready to rock the world, boys?" The 'commander', the short brown-haired boy sat in the cupola with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth.

"Yessir!" The tank's exhausts blasted and sputtered as the tracks lurched the vehicle forwards, shaking off the dense camouflage from its enormous profile.

A T29 Super Heavy Tank emerged from the thick disguise and rolled down a shallow slope. The American heavy tank traversed the muddy grounds smoothly, the barrel stabiliser kept the muzzle balanced and trained on the direct front of the 64-ton tank. The tank itself was modified to be able to easily cover the terrain that this match largely consisted of. The full length of the 105mm barrel had a sleeve of leaves that belonged to bushes and trees in the match, and there was a large camouflage net that covered most of the upper glacis and mantlet.

It was unlikely for this tank to be taken out at long-range firefights, but because of its size and lack of mobility, it could not be called a brawler.

"Prepare yourself, Captain Stevenson, because the game is about to get a lot more fun." Captain Rudolph 'Rudy' Lee, is an Englishman with German heritage that had previously met Jason on orders of the Brigadier, but only worked with him for one mission. He was a smug person, and a sarcastic one at that; this made him a difficult person to work with, even if he did get the job done. His crew were in some ways bat-shit crazy, just like him.

He picked up the two German tankers after defeating a King Tiger in a German field. The other three crew members had died, and since two of Rudy's crew members had died he thought he'd bring them along. Thankfully, Rudy was fluent in German, Russian, French, and Japanese, so he had no difficulties with communicating with his crews and the school he had been dragged into.

The All-Stars University team bought the rights to the T29 as soon as it was known about by Sensha-do. Rudy and his crew were without a tank, so when putting two and two together, you get a crew of six insane boys controlling the only T29 that was produced very late during the war. Rudy only really wanted to use Sensha-do to catch up with Jason, as he often saw him and St Gloriana in the news or on social media because of their winning streaks, and then their finals being a victory too.

Rudy's mission during this match was to disturb as much as possible, and maybe even cause in-fighting if possible.

"Dura, get us to the position I'm sending to you now. Make it quick." Rudy tapped some map grid coordinates into a pager, sent the message and then looked back out to the fields they were passing. "Rich, I want you to listen in on all of their frequencies and report back to me what they're chattering on about. Kurt, I don't want to see a single missed shot from you today, please. Friedrich, George, I don't want you overworking yourselves with loading the breach, but I don't want a reload speed of more than ten seconds, got it?"

Rudy let out a deep sigh, leaning into the ring of the cupola and looking up into the sky, watching the sparse, fluffy, white clouds and the clean blue sky above them. He took the cigarette out of his mouth and puffed out a long cloud of smoke. Rudy closed his eyes and placed the cigarette back between his lips, embracing the cool spring breeze that tickled his face.

Suddenly without warning, the T29 bumped up onto an incline and started climbing up a hill. Rudy opened a single eye and looked up the hill, then down and around him. Quickly, he was surprised at how well this Super Heavy was ascending and with how little the transmission and engine seemed to struggle. Dura, the driver, brought the tank to the top of the hill and was met with some low bushes, rocks and a couple of trees. The hill that the tank sat upon held overwatch over a valley and a stream that ran along it.

The T29 hid behind the trees and the bushes and aimed its barrel to the start of the road. The road was paved all down the valley, started behind a cliff and ended in the fields that the T29 had passed. Before long, an IS-2 exposed itself from the start of the road, followed by a KV-2, four T-34/76's and two T-34/85's.

Hans waited patiently for Rudy's order to fire, his finger poised over the trigger.

Rudy leaned forward in his cupola and observed the convoy of Russian tanks, waiting specifically for some other tanks to appear. Soon, four British tanks emerged from behind the cliff and joined the Russian convoy, the Black Prince, the Comets, and the Firefly. A mischievous grin grew on the Captain's face, watching through his binoculars and looking upon the face of the man he hadn't met for almost three years.

At the top on the other side of the valley, some barrels could be seen peaking over a ridge. German 88's and 75's. The interceptors sent by Erika were aiming their guns at the Russian and British tanks and were ready to fire.

"Hans, wait until they fire, and then we will too. We don't have the biggest cannon in this situation, that belongs to the KV-2. The best cannon here belongs to the Jagdtiger. It must be immobilised."

"Ja, Kommandant," Kurt turned the turret towards the Jagdtiger's left track.

In an instant, all eight German guns fired a barrage of shots at the convoy in the valley, some tanks being taken out immediately. Two T-34/76's, one Comet and a T-34/85. The remaining tanks turned their turrets and hulls hurriedly towards Kuromorimine's tanks.

Kurt grinned and squeezed the trigger. The muzzle brake of the cannon exploded in clouds of smoke, the shockwave shaking the bushes and trees around it. A great flash of light escaped the barrel and a 105mm shell soared across the valley, hitting and obliterating the left drive wheel of the Jagdtiger.

"Immobilise the IS-2 now," Rudy watched the firefight with deep interest and glee, grinning ever more so after each white flag he saw. George and Friedrich hammered in the next round, giving the go-ahead for Kurt. Kurt squeezed the trigger once more and caused the IS-2's right track to slide off the road wheels. The IS-2 found itself struggling, losing its grip and sliding down the incline of the valley the convoy was climbing.

Next was the British Infantry Support tank, Darjeeling's Black Prince. Friedrich and George slammed in the next shell, shouting to Kurt that it was ready. Kurt adjusted his sights for the range and squeezed the trigger, sending the huge shell flying and shattering the front-right drive wheel. Without missing a single shot, Kurt felt pleased with himself and leaned back in his chair. He looked up through his periscope and watched the battle unfold, along with the rest of his crew.

"Kurt! Aim at the Sherman. And don't just take out its tracks. I want you to maim that son of a bitch."

"Jawohl, Herr Kommandant," Kurt leaned into the sights of the 105 long-barrel and trained the crosshairs on the centre of mass of the Firefly.

"Fire when ready, Kurt." Rudy sneered as he watched the two loaders push in an armour piercing round into the breach. Kurt waited for the signal, heard it, then squeezed the trigger.


	14. 14

_The town in the centre of the match wasn't vibrant, and it bore the scars of war much like any town or city would if two teams of opposition were to fight in it. However, contrary to popular belief, this town would bare more small-arms bullet holes than most urban maps used for Sensha-do. Ten Allied soldiers were returning fire with four Axis soldiers in one hotel. You are probably thinking, that can't be right, this is a tank thing, not infantry! You are certainly correct there, but this isn't like every other 'tank thing' - whatever a 'tank thing' is..._

"Fuck! We're getting pissed on over here! Charles, where the bloody hell is Dmitri!?" Jason loaded another mag into his Sten submachine gun and yanked back the charging handle, flinching after a volley of green tracers sent shards of wood flying across the room.

"I don't know! He buggared off somewhere!" The brown-haired gunner pulled the pin of a grenade and blindly chucked it through a doorway.

"Fucking find him!" Jason returned fire, the orange light flashing from the muzzle of his gun illuminated his ferocious expression. Charles nodded and ran out of the room. Jason sighed and leaned his back against the wall, sliding down and stared at his gun. He looked to his right and saw three empty magazines to his Sten, and a single full one.

Seamus took one glance out of the hole in the wall and immediately ducked down. A spray of bullets made even more holes in walls, almost connecting with the Irishman in the process. He carried two Lee Enfield rifles with him, and slid one towards Jason.

Seamus, Jason, and Douglas were in a hotel room, littered with bits of wall and furniture. The large hole in the wall opened up to another hotel room, and another, and another. On the other end of the hall was an MG42 set up on a tripod. The MG42 was nearing the end of its ammunition, and Jason was waiting for his opportunity to strike. The machinegunner let out the final volley of shots and the panicked pulling-back of the charging handle could be heard from Jason's room.

The three British tankers popped up from behind their cover and aimed at the machinegunner. It was a boy dressed in a German tanker uniform, he was blond and blue-eyed. As soon as their eyes met, he ducked down. Jason let out a squirt from his Sten and Seamus and Douglas fired two shots from their rifles. The boy pulled the machinegun down with him, probably to reload it.

"Where is Adam? He's with Dmitri isn't he?" Jason and Seamus advanced into the next room as an explosion could be heard from a room above, causing dust to fall and create a thin layer of sawdust to fall on their persons. Douglas remained in the first room, aiming down the multiple gaping wide holes the MG42 had made.

"Aye, Sir. I saw him taking the .50 from the Firefly before we came in, but that was half an hour ago."

"Right, shite. Any news from the Russians?"

"Nothing yet," Seamus fired another couple of shots into the room the blond boy was in before ducking back down, "Charles said they're probably upstairs, that might have been the explosion just now."

"Let's hope they're ok." Jason rose from behind the cover and watched the hole made by the MG42. Seamus crept over to the room's front door and opened it, leaving the room. Jason and Seamus slowly advanced on the machinegunner's position, taking quiet, controlled steps. Jason stood in front of the door to the room the boy was hiding in, then forcefully kicked it open. He evaded to the side as a spray of green tracers ripped the door and almost some of Jason. Seamus pulled the pin to a grenade and chucked it inside. As soon as the grenade blew up, both of them ran inside, guns poised and ready to shoot the German.

As they entered the bedroom, Seamus was knocked down when the MG43 was thrown at him. The blond boy pulled up his pistol and fired at Jason, his face bleeding and clothes ripped. Jason barely felt two bullets hit him as the adrenaline was kicking in, he didn't hesitate when he emptied the Sten's magazine into the boy's chest. Both of them fell to the floor, but only one was dead.

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_To catch you up, I'll give you a run-down on what happened before all this, shall I?_

_This is three hours before the hotel shoot-out._

_Rudy's T29 disrupted the firefight between St Gloriana/Pravda and Kuromorimine successfully. Jason's Firefly had luckily, and unknowingly dodged the shot fired from the T29. After missing the shot, Rudy ordered Dura to leave and let the others finish the fight. Kuromorimine's forces were defeated but took a good few down with them. Three T-34/76's, one T-34/85, the KV-2, and both Comets were all taken out._

_Defending their commanders, both T-34's protected the flanks of the IS-2 whilst the crew fixed the track. The Firefly aided the Black Prince crew to repair her track and quickly got her back to fighting condition. A couple of minutes afterwards, the Black Prince and the Firefly advanced onwards in front of the Russians. Moments passed before a dirt-covered, scratched-up, shodden-looking T-34/85 came barreling down the other side of the valley. That was Dmitri and his crew, a bit late for the party, I'd say._

_Dmitri headed the much smaller convoy, leading them to their destination. Their destination was the outskirts of the town in the centre of the match, where they would meet up with the majority of Saunder's forces and capture the town. _

_Nonna's IS-2 and Darjeeling's Black Prince met with Katyusha's T-34/85 and Kay's brand new M4A3E8 ('Easy 8') on the outskirts. _

_Dmitri's T-34/85 and Jason's Firefly met with Adam's M24, then raced along the outskirts without letting their superiors know where they were going. Their plan had to go well, and if it didn't it could cost them their 'education'. They went to hunt the Panther II. Erik's highly skilled Panther II. Little did they know, they were being watched. _

_The Allied squad cut radio connections with the girls and established connections with each other. Adam's M24 was used to scout 100 metres ahead of the Firefly and T-34/85. Their hunt took them out to the east fields, and the M24 walked into a trap. _

_The driver, Sam accidentally overlooked some key factors and managed to flip the tank. It collided with solid rock, and launched its left track sky-high. Not only was it considered immobilised, but it had caught fire. The transmission had broken and the engine had sparked. _

_Erik's Panther II lay in wait, watching hatches open and telling his gunner to wait for all of the crew to be out of the tank. _

_Adam and his crew had left their vehicle, and Wolfgang lit up the American crew with the coaxial and the 75mm. A HE shell exploded on the exposed belly of the Chaffee, catching the driver and hull gunner in the process. Internals became externals, and two lives were quickly lost. The green tracers from the coaxial turned the commander into Swiss cheese and chased the loader and the gunner behind a ridge. _

_Joe, the Chaffee's loader. succumbed to his injuries and died from blood-loss. This left Adam alone, left him scared for his life. Apologising to his friend, he picked Joe's corpse of the ammunition for the M1911 he carried and his dogtags. _

_Adam ran, he escaped the German guns. Was it luck or misfortune that he survived?_

_Dmitri and Jason caught up with Adam, found him, and Jason had him get on the .50 cal on the roof. _

_The Panther II gave chase to the Firefly and T-34/85, and backed them into a corner. That corner was the centre of town. Although it wasn't a literal corner, if Dmitri and Jason had continued onwards they would have met a huge convoy of Kuromorimine forces, including the infamous Maus._

_The T-34/85 and the Firefly fought bravely and forced the Panther II to hide. Where it hid was in the garages of the hotel. _

_Erik and his crew took all of their guns, ammunition, and explosives into the hotel with them. They immediately climbed to the top floor. _

_Jason and Dmitri and their crews - including Adam, infiltrated the hotel. The Russians and Adam took the top floor before the British could get there. They were separated when an explosion destroyed the flight of stairs connecting the top and sixth floors. _

_Jason and his crew were fired upon by Jorge, the loader to Erik's Panther II._

_Charles, by using his athletic skills, managed to get up to the top floor. Jason, Seamus, and Douglas managed to take care of Jorge, but Seamus was unconscious and Jason had been shot._

_Upstairs whilst the British crewmen were dealing with Jorge, the Russians were fighting Erik, Wolfgang, and Klaus. They were also losing. Yuri, Mischa, and Grigory had all been killed, and Vasily had also been shot. Adam and Dmitri, now supported by Charles, were in an equal gunfight with the Germans._

_You're all caught up now! Let's hope Rudy doesn't get in the way!_

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Douglas rushed in opening the first-aid kit, prioritising in taking care of Jason before checking if Seamus was ok or not. He patched up his commander, although not perfectly, but well enough for the bandages to last quite a while.

"You're alright, Sir. You're alright." Douglas wrapped a bandage around Jason's left upper-arm, cut off the end and then tied it.

"Thanks, Hitch." Painfully and shakily, Jason stood up and picked up his Sten. Douglas moved on to Seamus, trying to wake him up. Another explosion sounded upstairs, and another small layer of dust fell. The plaster on the ceiling broke apart in the back of the room and some floorboards shattered. Realising the ceiling was collapsing, Douglas gripped Seamus's jacket in his fists and dragged him into the hall. Jason picked up the MG43 and the rest of its ammo and left the room.

Both Douglas and Jason watched as the ceiling collapsed and some furniture fell in. The floor had made a walkway for them to walk up to create two fronts against Erik and his crew.

"Stay here with Seamus." Jason loaded the last magazine into his Sten and held it in his right hand. He awkwardly reached for his Webley with his left hand and held it firmly.

"But Sir-" Douglas' brows furrowed as he attempted to stop Jason from going on his own.

"That's an order, Corporal. Stay here with the Sergeant." Jason re-entered the room and looked to the felled ceiling, aiming both the revolver and the Sten to the hole. Slowly, he climbed up, cautiously he watched for any signs of the Germans.

Looking up, he saw Dmitri, Vasily, Adam, and Charles exchanging shots with Erik and his crew. Jason let the Sten hang around his torso on its strap and grabbed a grenade from his pocket. He pulled the pin and chucked it at the cover that the German's were hiding behind. Almost immediately, it was batted back towards him with the stock of a rifle.

A shock of fear hit Jason as he watched the grenade settle in an already weakened roof support. The support crumbled and the top floor was now exposed to the open air.

Charles took Vasily's bundle of grenades and primed it, rose from the cover and pulled back his arm to throw it.

Three shots hit him. Two in the chest and one in the stomach. The grenade dropped at his feet. Before he could fall, he looked down at the growing bloodstains in his oversuit and coughed up blood. More bullets hit him, and he fell to the floor. Adam picked up the grenade and threw it out of a nearby window. As soon as it passed the frame, it exploded and shrapnel scattered throughout the room. Adam took some of the shrapnel and fell to the floor.

Dmitri loaded the T-34/85's detached hull gun and fired at the German's cover, ripping it to pieces bit by bit. The pancake mag on top of the gun twisted and twisted until the barrel smoked and the receiver kept clicking.

Erik rose from the cover and fired at Dmitri. Dmitri hid behind the cover just in time.

This was Jason's chance. He aimed at Erik and squeezed both triggers. Erik ducked and returned fire. Jason hid behind a stone pillar, just thick enough to hide his whole body.

Douglas and Seamus were seen at the hole above the room. They waited for their commander's orders.

There was silence, and then guns started being reloaded.

"I like this, Herr Stevenson, I'm glad we could catch some fresh air outside of our tanks. I honestly thought I would kill you in a different situation to this, but this works for me too. I will kill you, Herr Stevenson, you have my word."

"I don't plan on dyin' today, cheers pal. I think yer the one who's going to die instead." Jason turned around the pillar and fired at Erik, causing the blond boy to duck behind the stone wall he used as cover. Wolfgang popped up behind his cover a couple of metres away from Erik and aimed at Jason, but before he could shoot, Douglas and Seamus suppressed him.

"Can we not talk this out like gentlemen? I feel like we could come to some agreement before more lives are needlessly lost." Jason holstered his Webley and took the Sten into both hands.

"Pftah! Gentlemen? That is scheisse, dummkopf! You lost the title of gentleman when you declared war on the Fatherland!"

"Are you takin' the piss? It was your fucking idiot of a leader who was asking for a fight!"

"Untermensch!" Erik hoisted a Panzerfaust onto his shoulder and fired at the pillar Jason was using as cover. As soon as Jason heard the blast of the Panzerfaust, he ducked. Timed perfectly, the rocket burst apart the pillar where Jason's chest had just been. Jason laid on the floor and fired at Erik.

Wolfgang rose back up from his cover, and was immediately shot down by Douglas.

"Wolfgang! schiesse... scheisse..." Erik looked to his left and saw a pair of open elevator doors, exposing an empty elevator shaft. He looked down at his feet and saw smoke grenades. He planned his escape, just like the coward he is. He popped the smoke over the cover and waited for the smoke to build up before sprinting towards the elevator. Barely dodging soaring bullets, he jumped into the elevator shaft. Jason, Dmitri, and Douglas all ran over to the elevator shaft to fire everything they had left into it.

Erik was nowhere to be seen.

Panting, sweating, and bleeding, the three crewmen suddenly felt a rush of tiredness wash over them. The firefight had been won, but at serious costs. Limping painfully, Jason ran over to where Dmitri had originally been hiding with the other three. Vasily was patching up Adam, both of them wounded.

_Charles_

Jason stood in place like a statue when he laid his eyes upon Charles. His body was riddled with bulletholes, bleeding in almost 15 different places. Dried tears could be seen streaking a path through blood and dirt on his cheeks. A weak, pained smile on his lips and tired, cold, lifeless eyes.

Jason didn't know what to do. He couldn't think of anything. He couldn't move his body. _Charles is dead_. He died so young. He had so much more life to live. He hadn't even finished his education in the previous world, let alone this one. He held so much potential, and it was all over so quickly.

Jason had sent letters to the parents, wives, and siblings of men who had given their lives for the cause, but he didn't want to write a letter to his _friends' _parents. He felt his knees get weak, and his legs failed him. He fell to his knees and dropped the Sten. Douglas was already at Charles' side, bawling to the sight of his dead brother-in-arms.

Doug and Charlie had been friends in London ever since preschool. They were inseparable, brother's by bond and not by blood. Now they were forced apart. Seamus stood above Douglas and placed a soft hand on his left shoulder.

"Charlie! No! Please... please don't leave me here! I don't want you to leave, please!" Douglas cried into Charles' bloodied oversuit, sobbing and choking.

Dmitri crouched beside his brother and checked his wounds, making sure he was alright. Adam didn't realise until now, but his entire crew was _dead_. He'd never see them smile ever again, never see them cry again, never see them breathe again. He put his head in his hands and began to softly cry.

Dark clouds covered the skies, rain began to pour outside. The weather was solemn, the skies were a deep grey instead of the bright, vibrant blue, and the air quickly became humid.

"Are we the only ones left now? Are we the only survivors?" Vasily sat up on a bench, applying pressure to the wound in his side as he adjusted himself.

"Yeah..." Dmitri sighed, placing himself next to his brother.

"Blyat..." Vasily wiped some dirt off of his face and looked up at the ceiling.

"Now what? Do we keep playing the match?" Seamus reloaded his rifle and slung the strap over his right shoulder.

"Erik is gone now, it's only him left. The rest of his crew are dead." Jason felt onto his backside and looked across the room out the windows.

"The guns, what do we do with them?" Seamus closed his eyes, thinking about the situation they found themselves in.

"We need to hide them, and the bodies. Our lives would be ruined if the Federation found out about us retaliating with our own guns. We need to pin everything on Erik, it's the only way we can get out of this." Jason threw the Sten to the side, and then took his Webley out of the holster.

"Right, and he's escaped," Dmitri grunted, leaning his head back.

"Aye..." Jason closed his eyes and brought the side of the revolver to his lips. Softly, he kissed it and placed it on the ground in front of him, stroking it before properly letting it go.

"There's gonna be a whole lotta explaining to do..." Seamus sighed, leaning against a wall.

"Aye..."

Jason thought long and hard about what just happened. They all knew what could happen, else they wouldn't have brought all of these guns and grenades. They knew that they would fight. They knew that lives would be lost, but none of them knew it was going to be this many.

Jorge,

Klaus,

Wolfgang,

Joe,

Sam,

Tommy,

David,

Yuri,

Grigory,

Mischa,

** Charles**.

They knew, but at the same time, they didn't. They can't come back from this. Eleven boys killed in the first mil-sim match held by the Sensha-do Federation, and during the first year, boys were allowed into Sensha-do. The reporters will be all over them as soon as the match is either called off or ended naturally, and seeing as the American boys were slaughtered in a field, it's going to be called off.

A single thought crossed Jason's mind as he trailed off.

_Darjeeling_

Jason jumped to his feet and ran to the stairwell. He didn't take into account the searing pain of the bullet wounds as he crossed the collapsed stairs, he was too busy fearing for Darjeeling's life. Erik knew about his relationship with her, and now he bet he was hunting her. Jason sprinted down the stairs and into the lobby, limp-running through and getting to the parked Firefly. He jumped in and re-connected the nodes and frequencies.

"Hello? This is Jason. Darjeeling, can you hear me? Over." Jason held the headphones to his left ear and the receiver just in front of his lips. He waited for a few seconds, and then repeated the message. A minute passed, and no reply. Jason repeated the message, adjusting dials every so often just in case.

"Jason? Thank God you're ok. Where the hell are you?! Where are the others?" Darjeeling's voice came clear through the headphones, sounding terrified yet relieved at the same time.

"The hotel in the centre of town, but don't come. It's dangerous here. Stay where you are. We'll come to you."

"Are you ok? Jason, please tell me you're ok?"

"I'm fine... I'm alright..." Some of the fear Jason held within him was slowly fading as he spoke to Darjeeling, although afraid, her voice soothed him. A red light covered Jason's instruments as he talked to Darjeeling. He looked up and saw a red flare hovering in the sky, its bright red light painting the hotel and the roads red. Moments later, he could faintly hear the chopping of helicopter rotor blades.

"Jason? Who got hurt? What happened over there?" Darjeeling's voice became panicked as she too heard the helicopter. Jason looked outside of the tank and saw the other five standing out the front of the hotel, Vasily being helped to stand from Dmitri, and Adam was being helped by Seamus.

"I think it'd be best if I came to you to explain... but after what has happened within the last hour, I don't think I'll be in Japan for long..."

"What are you saying Jason? I don't understand."

"It's alright... I'm coming over to you now." Jason stretched the cord down to the driver's seat and started the Firefly's engine. It spluttered to life and black smoke puffed out of the exhaust pipe. Putting the tank into gear, Jason drove the Firefly down the road towards the support line Darjeeling was part of. As he travelled, Jason constructed the best possible way to explain the situation to Darjeeling, but there would be no time in the universe to fully explain everything.

How could he? How could he explain the guns? Would he have to reveal who he really was? Who everyone else is and where they have all come from?

Jason put aside the radio headset and put the tank into its highest gear. Jason swerved through the roads and speedily made his way to Darjeeling's position. He saw the Black Prince, some tents and two Churchills. He parked the tank and jumped out. When he laid eyes on the situation before him, he froze.

_Rudy_.


	15. 15

_Rudy._

Jason ran over to Darjeeling and Rudy. They were talking, it seemed like something lighthearted. Darjeeling looked like she was laughing at something Rudy had said, and when Jason came close enough, she smiled at him.

Rudy turned towards Jason.

"Long time no see! How long has it been? Three years?" Rudy went in for a hug, but Jason stepped away from him. There was a scowl plastered on his face, one of pain and hatred, one of remorse.

"Why are you here?" Circling around Rudy, Jason placed himself half in front of Darjeeling, curling a protective arm around her.

"Come on, you're not even going to say hello? That's harsh..." Putting out his bottom lip, Rudy faked a hurt look.

"Answer me!" Shouted Jason, clenching his fist. Darjeeling, now looking quite worried, held onto Jason's wrist.

"Wow, you're a bit impatient. Don't you want to be seen by a health professional first? You're not looking too good, dude." Rudy gesticulated towards the two bullet wounds, now covered by bandages, with a sly grin.

"Just answer my fucking question, Rudy." Jason's brows knitted and he glared at the brown-haired boy standing before him. There was now a curious audience of girls spectating the confrontation, whispering to each other under their breaths.

"Fine, fine. I'm here on orders from the Sensha-do Federation, I can't tell you exactly _why_, but I'm sure someone will inform you. I'm with the All-Stars. My tank, well... their tank... is a fine vehicle, and for some odd reason they had me come into this match and play around with you guys. My crew, too, obviously. I did anticipate the fight between you and Erik, it was inevitable, like other things that are yet to come." Rudy paused and began circling Jason and Darjeeling, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he walked around them. He circled them like a vulture, waiting for the moment to fly down and start picking the carcass.

"You know about Erik?" Confused, Jason raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, I do actually. He's quite an amazing man, wouldn't you say?" An unmistakably evil glint shone in Rudy's eye.

"He's a bastard that deserves to rot and burn in hell, he has no place on this Earth."

"Yikes, I see. Well, opinions are like arseholes, everyone has one. I'm sure there's a continuation from that somewhere... Oh well. My point is, I don't care what you think." Rudy shrugged and then slicked back his hair.

"Too bad, I thought we really got along," Jason retorted sarcastically, grinding his teeth.

"Anyway, I'm gonna get to the point, but I need you to come with me. Alone." Rudy took an authoritative stance, facing Jason directly. The two of them stop circling each other and stared. Jason looked to his left, at a very worried and confused looking Darjeeling. She didn't want Jason to leave again, but it seemed incredibly important. She nodded to him, and he nodded back.

A weak smile was passed between them, both wanting desperately to assure each other's safety.

Rudy walked through the crowd that had gathered, and reluctantly Jason followed him. As they left, the crowd dispersed. Rudy led Jason into a nearby house. It was very run down and had vines and moss growing through the windows and the floorboards. The furniture looked ancient and they were in tatters, the whole front room was in a state of deep disarray. The only light source was the sun coming through the windows, and even then it wasn't the best because of the overgrown plants.

Rudy planted himself on a sofa, not caring about the dirt and how broken it was. As he sat down, the sofa broke and collapsed, eliciting a surprised shout and then a laugh followed.

**"Le's stop pissin' aboot. I havnae seen ye in three fookin' years, I nevah thought I'd see you again. Yet here ye are! Right in front of ma' eyes, sittin' in a fookin sofa looking like ye got some huge plan in yer noggin',"** Jason paused and took in a deep breath, waiting for Rudy to explain himself, **"well? What the shite have ye come 'ere for?"**

_"For starters, please sit down somewhere you're making me uncomfortable."_

**"Fuck yersel'"**

_"Here I am trying to be nice, and you're saying things like that. I shouldn't be surprised really, oh well."_

**"Fuckin' get on with it man!"**

_"Alright, alright. Fuck me... Back in May, when we all first came here, do you remember?"_

**"Of course I fuckin' remember ye wee shite, it's when all the things I knew aboot went oot the fuckin' winde and I had to re-educate mesel'"**

_"Right, yes. About that, actually. I myself was quite surprised when my crew and I learned so quickly about the world around us. It's not a coincidence. No human learns like that, at least of what I know. The great thing is, is that none of the boys went crazy. The Americans, the Russians, The Germans, you Brits and my crew and I, none of us openly questioned it."_

**"How do ye know that fer sure?"**

_"I was told."_

**"_You _were told? Where's ye fuckin' proof?"**

_"I haven't got any." Rudy sighed, tilting his head slightly to the left._

**"What the fuck..." Jason pinched the bridge of his nose and started pacing about the room.**

_"Jason, listen to me." Rudy leaned on his knees, staring intently at the Scotsman. Jason stopped moving around and faced Rudy, impatience written all over his face._

**"What?"**

_"The next thing I say, you can choose to believe me or think that I'm crazy. Either way, I don't care and I've finally gotten it out."_

**"Fine, go ahead."**

_"None of what has happened to us, you, me, your crew, my crew, all the other boys that have participated so far; none of this is purely a coincidence. You and I? We were transported from 1945 Germany to 20XX Japan. We can't prove that this would have been our future, we can't prove our past lives either. We can only prove that this is the here and now, and we're here to stay."_

**"How can you be so sure?"**

_"I searched up our names on the internet. Something I'm surprised none of you boys thought about yet." Rudy pulled a mobile phone out of his trouser pocket and unlocked it. He tapped the screen a few times before handing it over to Jason. "Our previous selves existed, but not as us."_

**"Yer talkin' shite," Jason took the phone and looked at the screen, reading the article. His facial expression faltered, his stoic personality broke.**

_"We're dead, Jason. We died in the war. Or we went missing. Or our bodies couldn't be recognised so we were just named 'a soldier who fought in the war'. Or our deaths were covered up, an excuse was made. Someone supposedly went to a foreign land and was never seen or spoken to ever again."_

**"Then who are we?" Jason passed Rudy's phone back to him.**

_"We, I'm guessing, are their grandchildren and greatgrandchildren."_

**"Why? What did this?"**

_"The Christian in me is saying some sort of miracle, or it's all part of 'God's Plan', but the rationalist in me is thinking that some higher being orchestrated it all, brought us all together in this world and jammed us into a tiny arena as an act of natural selection. That's my theory, but it probably isn't true."_

**"This is crazy."**

_"You're telling me, and I've been mulling over it ever since I got here. As soon as I read about 'Sensha-do' and its history I knew I wasn't in the right world."_

**"It is... very bizarre."**

_"Oh, that little German fucker, what was his name? Erik! That's it. Yeah. He doesn't exist. I can't find him."_

**"Huh? What do you mean?"**

_"I spent days looking for info on him and came up with nothing. The only stuff that I found was some incredibly vague family info and his application to Kuromorimine- oh yeah, what the fuck is up with the big fuck off ships, huh? What's that all about?"_

**"I learned not to question those sorts of things. But I ne'er understood how Tankery was safe. How did the Japanese manage to make fightin' in those vehicles safe? Cannons that are calibres way higher than the armour they're shooting at bein' stopped by a layer of carbon. It dosnae make sense."**

_"Somehow it does. Jason, whether you believe me or not is none of my concern, but I want you to understand that we are not who we think we are. We are not the men we used to be; instead, we're 16, 17, 18-year-old boys that drive tanks designed for sport across the fields of Japan for a living."_

**"I believe you... This cannae be no coincidence. This is deliberate."**

_"Exactly, yet we can't do anything about it."_

**"How do you know? Is there a way we can find out?"**

_"Not that I know of, no. Not yet, anyway. I haven't got a single lead on any hint of a clue. It's a wild goose chase, and there is no goose to chase. We've been set up to live the new lives we've been given whether we like it or not. We have no power, we haven't got any authority. There are more powerful things controlling our situation, and we're just puppets."_

**"Getting unnecessarily deep now, Rudy."**

_"Sorry, I got carried away. I think that's everything about that topic. Any questions?" Rudy grinned at Jason, taking him by surprise a little._

**"Where do I fuckin' begin?"**

_"Keep them to a minimum, please," laughing to himself, Rudy leaned back into the broken sofa. Jason shared the laugh and shook his head._

**"Right..." Jason kicked a loose bundle of moss across the floorboards before opening his mouth again, "I understand where you're coming from, and knowing you, you've done all of the research and followed it up but... us, who we used to be... our names, what we look like... how are we connected?"**

_"May I use you as an example for your question?"_

**"Fuck it, why not?"**

_"When I search 'Captain Jason Montgomery Stevenson' on this website, I get this photograph and this information."_

**"That's a picture the Brigadier ordered a few days before we advanced over the Rhine."**

_"Right, and look at the family." Rudy turned the screen to Jason, and it showed Jason's family tree._

Stemming from Robert Carlisle and Olivia Stevenson was 'Captain Jason Montgomery Stevenson'. Attached to Captain Stevenson was a woman named Katherine Bridges. Between them, they had two children. Major Thomas Stevenson and Dr Natalie Stevenson. Then, attached to Thomas Stevenson was a woman named Elizabeth McKeown. Below them was their children, two boys, Jason 'Jay' Stevenson the Second and Peter Stevenson. Jay married a woman named Sophia, and had a son called Jason Montgomery Stevenson the Third, along with twin daughters named Lilith and Eve.

Currently, Jason Montgomery Stevenson III was taking part in a UN international educational experiment in Japan, as part of the Sensha-do Federation co-ed trials.

**"Thas no' right. So the me before the transportation is my Greatgrandad?"**

_"Seems so."_

**"Welp. That's shite."**

_"Indeed it is. You also have twin sisters."_

**"Fuck."**

_"Looking forward to going home yet?"_

**"I'm not so sure anymore... I know now that the Mother I was expecting to see at home is long gone..."**

_"Did you not look forward to seeing your father?"_

**"Couldnae give a rats arse aboot him, I dunnae give a shite."**

_"Well, you have a new family now."_

**"I have no emotional connections with 'em. How can I act lovin' with 'em when I've ne'er met 'em before?"**

_"What if it'll come back to you, like how we learned about all of this technology and how to just go along with it?"_

**"Do ye have a family to go back to?"**

_"I do, apparently this body lived with its older sister in Cambridge."_

**"Cambridge? Is it a fancy place?"**

_"Seems she's got a lot of money, so I'd think so. It's in Grantchester."_

**"Ooh, I might be a wee bit jealous."**

_"Hah, I don't like posh places, they do my nut in."_

**"An uptight wanker from Cambridge wouldnae talk like that."**

_"Good thing I'm not from Cambridge then. Born and raised in London."_

**"Ah, explains a bit then."**

_"Isn't Darjeeling going to Cambridge?"_

The room suddenly fell silent. The smile on Jason's lips faded and he lifted his gaze to meet Rudy's.

**"She tell ye that?"**

_"Yup, she said she's going to study English Literature."_

**"Right... and how did you two become so... 'buddy-buddy'?"**

_"I said to her that I was a long-time friend of yours from school."_

**"Nice lie."**

_"But we are friends, aren't we?"_

**"Maybe..."**

_"Yeesh, can't say I didn't try."_

**"I'll see how ye are with a few drinks in ye, then I'll judge whether yer a friend or no'."**

_"She's cute. You're a lucky guy."_

**"She's mine, that's what she is."**

_"Protective or obsessive? I'm sure you two will make lots of fabulous babies. I best take my leave, I fear I've overstayed my welcome," lightly slapping his knees, Rudy pushed himself off the collapsed sofa and wiped some dirt and dust off his backside._

**"Mhm. Rudy..?" Jason watched the brown-haired boy head for the door.**

_"Yep?" Before he opened the door, he turned towards the Scotsman._

**"I'm glad you're alive." Jason held a stern, yet kind expression. **

It was clear to Rudy that Jason meant what he said, and he didn't want to openly be happy about it. Rudy simply smirked and then left the building. Jason took some time to himself to go over the conversation that he and Rudy just had, taking mental notes of the most important parts: his parents are called Jay and Sophia. His sisters are called Lilith and Eve. His house is in Stirling County.

He believed Rudy's words, but at the same time it was so believable it felt like a comforting lie and the harsh truth was being hidden from him.

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"Erik, you are an imbecile." Maho's cold words stabbed deep into the boy. They were in Maho's office in the headquarters of Kuromorimine, a bland concrete room with nothing but filing cabinets and a desk to fill the room. "What were you thinking? You're going to get excluded, kicked out from both Kuromorimine and Japan. Do you understand the level of seriousness of your situation? You have hurt so many people and you don't care. You're pitiful- no. You're not worth pity. You're not worth anything. You're a disgrace. The Nishizumi name was already falling apart because of Miho's victory last tournament - not that I care but... you have obliterated the status quo of Sensha-do."

"I don't care about any of that! I never did!" Erik's face quickly became red as he shouted at the top of his lungs. "I can't ever get what I fucking want! There are always barriers!" Erik clenched his fists and stepped incredibly close to Maho, towering over her. He glared down at her. "No matter fucking what there is always something blocking my way to greatness, the first barrier were the Untermensch. Then the Generals that looked down upon me. Then the teachers that sneered when they looked at me. Then the girls that thought nothing of me." Erik knotted his brows, then stepped away from Maho.

"Then it was Jason. Herr Stevenson. I still haven't even gotten rid of him. He's a fucking cockroach. Kleine Scheisse. I hate him. I fucking hate him."

"Erik."

"He's always in my fucking way! He's ruined my fucking life! Killed my fucking brothers! He killed my chance at a great life!"

"Erik!"

"What?"

Maho slapped Erik's face, the loud crack of skin-to-skin echoed though the concrete room. Erik's face contorted into multiple emotions; anger, sadness, rage, resentment. A silent moment passed, and then Maho grabbed his face and pulled him down to hers.

"Shut up. Just shut. up. You're a child. Your beliefs can no longer come true because of the world you live in. You have ruined your own life because of the actions you have taken. I had to ignore the words spoken behind your back, and at times I had to step in to stop what they were saying. Why? Because I fell in love with Erik, the first person who acted against my orders. I respected you. Yet... I can't say if I can or not anymore."

"What are you saying?"

"Erik, I fell in love with you because you're a disobedient idiot. I honestly don't know why, but I was attracted to you." Maho let her hands drop from his face and then placed them on his chest. She softly pushed him away, at an arms length.

"Maho... If I had known I..."

"What? You would have exploited my love for you? I know you don't love me back, you have dedicated your love to Germany. Even if you had an ounce of love to share for me, I could never come close. You're a selfish prick, and you'll go nowhere in life if you stay like that." Maho let her arms drop to her side. Her eyes were dry and there was a look of pure hatred and disgust in her eyes. She stepped to the side, and then walked to the door. She gripped the doorknob and twisted it. Maho pulled it open and looked out the door, seeing feet and legs disappearing down hallways.

People were listening to their argument.

"Get out. I don't want to set my eyes on you ever again." Maho calmly stated, but her words were filled with the rage of the devil and they were carried to Erik clearly.

"Yes, Miss Nishizumi." Erik stood to attention and bowed his head, then promptly marched out of the office. Maho slammed the door behind him, making a permanent barrier between herself, and the snivelling, conniving liar that was Erik von Feuerstein.


	16. 16

**Chapter 16 probably took too long, didn't it? Also, please leave reviews! They help a lot and make me really happy! I love you all!**

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For an afternoon in late March, it was surprisingly warm. Perhaps around 14 degrees celsius outside, it was a comfortable 20 within the cosy confines of Jason's flat. Not too hot, else it would get humid and sweaty, and it wasn't cold either. It did help with the extra body in the small room anyway, it was also unlikely for that extra body to leave any time soon.

Jason and Darjeeling were sitting on the recently changed sheets of the bed, with Darjeeling sitting on her legs and Jason laying his head on her lap. His eyes were closed, but his eyes were moving underneath reddened lids. A soft, pale hand stroked the fire-coloured locks of the Scotsman, a gentle, rhythmic stroking that sent him into a calm sleep. The record player that Jason had bought a couple of months ago was playing some quietened British swing, barely tickling the couples' eardrums at the current volume it was set to.

Just earlier, maybe half an hour ago, Jason had another breakdown. His mental state was deteriorating and the only solace he found was either with Darjeeling or the cigarettes and a bottle of whiskey. Of course, he hid the second choice as much as he could from his girlfriend; but eventually, she'd find out or he'd tell her. It wouldn't be a pretty conversation, and resorting to something like smoking and drinking isn't something he's ever done before. This came as a surprise to even himself, when trying to deal with the past events, that he went to the bottle rather than taking legitimate means in helping himself.

At the moment, the puffiness of his eyes was finally going down and his breathing had slowed. He was calm. Being in the arms of his angel made him feel like he could do anything, like he was invincible, nothing could hurt him if he had the support of Darjeeling.

Somethings could hurt him indefinitely when she isn't there, such as the reminiscing of the murder of his friend.

Charles never deserved such a fate. Instead, he deserved to live a long and fruitful life that allowed him to flourish; but it would never happen because he had been denied of any access to a life he deserved. Instead, he received pain and suffering.

No one deserved such fate, yet that is what happens in life.

**[You will live]**

**[You will die]**

Inevitability is inescapable, and you cannot change confirmed inevitability such as life and death. It'll happen whether you like it or not.

Is it fate or destiny?

This is something Jason came to accept. However, he expanded on it. He added to it. With the life you are given from birth, do what you will with it but you should at least make the most of the things you are given. No matter what hardships, positive reinforcement of any kind can aid oneself in achievement.

Death is near impossible to overcome unless an individual is desensitised to it. Then it becomes common, or natural.

When Jason was in the army he encountered death on many occasion, however, it didn't let it shape who he was. He was afraid of death, yes, but he never reacted to it in a way that he stopped trying to push towards his goals.

Jason knew that when he died, he could reunite with his mother. He didn't want to rush to death, embrace it with open arms so he could see his mother again. He wanted to live his life to the fullest before becoming old and being gently guided away from the land of the living.

This way of thinking was imprinted into his mind, and it would never he scribbled out or overwritten.

It was after he encountered Erik, and his crew, that he feared death. If he had died, how many would be affected? The scope of his death would be massive, just as it had been with every other person that has died. No one knows for sure how massive the impact of death is on every person, but the effect is incomprehensible.

If Jason had died, it would create a ripple effect on not only his loved ones but also the wider community.

Charles' death, along with the Russians and the Americans, was held a deep-set secret within the Sensha-do Federation and the families involved. It was understood that it was infighting between the boys that caused their deaths, and nobody really understood why because the survivors wouldn't explain. Their refusal to explain or their vague comments were soon going to be taken for granted and the case would go cold.

Rumours spread that live ammunition was used in the tanks for them to be killed, another rumour stated that they used the coaxials and the hull machineguns to kill each other when they were out of the tanks (in some ways that rumour wasn't false).

The survivors were excused from classes for two weeks but were expected to be revising for the end of year exams nonetheless.

Jason wasn't one for academia, but he tried his best. The classes he had been attending were surprisingly helpful and he was even referred to supplementary classes, this was mainly because his brain couldn't get wrapped around it all and he was a lot more focussed on the tanks rather than lessons.

Well... since he was sat next to Darjeeling, he was more focused on her rather than what the teacher was saying.

Jason neither looked forward to or dreaded results day, but there was a voice in the back of his head saying that he should be worried. Something like that comes naturally, but Jason was sceptical. He was thinking about what Rudy had said, and that this was technically his great-grandson's body. It didn't make much sense to him, but what other explanation could be found when the 'real' him died in 1982?

The warm, soft sensation of Darjeeling's lap calmed Jason's hectic mind, and it worked wonders, somehow. When at school their romantic interactions were quite reserved, neither of them wanted to boast about it or show it off, especially Darjeeling. Jason hardly talked to the other boys about his time with Darjeeling because he felt no need to, he felt like he would only tell them if they asked (and they rarely asked, bar Charles' incessant, unavoidable, inappropriate questions about their relationship).

"_Sigh..._" Jason turned onto his back and opened his eyes, looking up at the blonde girl. Realising he was awake, she gave him a quick smile.

"How are you feeling?" Keeping her hand on the back of his head, she continued to lightly massage him.

"Better, thanks to you..."

"My pleasure, it would be wrong if I didn't at least try and help you."

"It's always appreciated, darlin'."

"_Darling_?" Darjeeling covered her mouth with her free hand, trying to stifle her giggles.

"Hm? Ah, sorry... it just came out," embarrassed and trying not to ruin the moment, Jason tried to backtrack.

"No no, it's quite alright. You've just never said it before so it surprised me," Darjeeling smiled, and let down her hand from her mouth.

"I see, so you don't mind if I use 'terms of endearment' with you?"

"Of course not, I'm sure I'd find some to thrown into the mix too."

"I like the sound of that," Jason closed his eyes and smirked. Darjeeling brushed a few strands of orange locks away from his face and watched his face. He wore a calm expression upon himself, that of a person who had no worries. Jason had worries, both of them knew that, but at this moment, all of them washed away.

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"Adam? What happened to you?" Kay approached the boy cautiously, her worried eyes glancing over him. No reply came from the brown-haired boy, just a sleepless stare. Unblinking and devoid of life, his once blue eyes seemed grey, as if he himself was devoid of life. Kay didn't fully understand why he was being like this, but seeing him curled into the foetal position next to the hull of the M24 made her feel remorseful.

"Adam..?" She crouched down beside him and shakily placed a hand on his right shoulder, receiving no response. Adam was hugging his knees, his clothes were dirtied and covered in blood. Whether it was his or someone else's she couldn't tell, but they were dry stains. She looked over his face, it was tired and the dark circles under his eyes could hardly be seen by the layer of mud and blood.

His eyes, staring a thousand yards away. Kay wanted desperately to help him, but she couldn't find anything. Her words of reassurance were usually to people who couldn't find a boyfriend or their tank got knocked out during a match, never to someone who witnessed four of their friends die in front of them; Kay didn't know that.

"They're gone, Kay. They're gone." Adam's weak, croaky voice finally escaped his cracked lips. His voice didn't sound sad, and his eyes were completely dry. There were no signs of tear stains on his cheeks. Adam couldn't cry. He didn't even find the lump in his throat after replaying the images in his mind. Adam felt complete sadness, but he couldn't show it. It's not that he didn't want to, but he physically couldn't.

"I know..." Kay's voice was lower and calmer as she sat down next to him. She curled her hand around one of his and stroked it with her thumb. Kay knew of the boys' deaths, but she didn't know why, what, or how.

"My crew, they're gone... and all I can do is sit here. I can't even cry. I can't mourn their deaths," Adam swallowed, and his right eyebrow twitched, "I can only sit here. I can only sit here."

"It's not your fault, Adam."

"I ran away, I could have died with them. I could have done _something_."

"No, you're wrong. You made the rational choice of saving yourself. I understand that you were all close, I understand, but one life saved is better than all of them being lost. I can't fully understand how you're feeling right now, but let me tell you this: I'm glad you ran away. I'm glad you're alive, Adam. Everyone in Saunders is glad to see you're still alive. Your family back home will be, too, I'm sure of it." Kay wrapped her arms around Adam, her warm bomber jacket blanketing him.

"Yeah... my family..."

"Will you... will you be going back home soon?"

"Yeah."

"I see. Thank you for everything you've done, Adam..."

"Yeah."

"I'll miss you..."

"..." Adam closed his eyes for the first time, took a moment and then looked at Kay. His pale blue eyes were wet now, threatening to spill.

"Hey, hey... it's alright... it's ok..." Kay gently whispered, gingerly pulling his head to her right shoulder and stroking the back of his head. Adam weakly wrapped his arms around her torso, returning the affectionate embrace she was giving him. He recognised the lump in his throat and the pressure under his eyes as he was about to cry, but nothing dropped. He couldn't cry.

"I'll..." Adam croaked, the hoarseness in his voice was clear, "I'll miss you too... Kay..."

"We'll stay in touch, I promise. Not a day will go by where I won't think of you, got that?" Kay soothingly curled her fingers and straightened them at the back of his head. Adam could feel himself falling into the throes of a deep sleep, something he couldn't achieve in recent nights. Every night since the match, he had been wide awake. The images still vivid in his mind, still reliving the cursed memories that have affected him so harshly. However, in the tender arms of this girl, he could feel his body getting weaker and heavier.

Adam's arms remained wrapped around Kay as he eventually invited sleep, and with open arms, it gladly accepted. That night, he had his first dream in over five months. Some of the night still felt cold and the dream sometimes became weak or hazy, but that compassionate warmth always returned to him.

Kay, after realising he fell asleep on her, struggled to move him to a comfier place than the cold metal floor of the hangar. In her opinion, the most difficult part wasn't carrying him or explaining to a teacher why she was carrying him but actually keeping him asleep. She was scared to disturb him, but he was in a seriously deep sleep. One thought crossed her mind and that he entered some sort of coma, but she quickly flushed that down the drain when he started whispering under his breath.

Laying him down on her bed, Kay adjusted his posture to make it slightly more comfortable. Not necessarily knowing what to do next, she sat slumped on the edge of her bed watching him sleep. His previously tortured face was now relaxed and innocent-looking, and Kay couldn't help but look at him. It was rare to see him sleeping so soundly, he used to toss and turn whenever she found him on the sofa in the common room or in the seat of some form of transport. Adam could easily fall asleep, but sleeping wasn't easy.

Adam laid on his back relatively still, his eyes moving under his eyelids. He was dreaming. What of, Kay didn't know. What she did know was that she needed to find somewhere else to sleep because slipping in under the covers with him was a bad idea for multiple reasons: he's still wearing his dirty clothes (she's glad the next day is when they change their sheets), Alisa likes to barge into her room in the mornings, and it would embarrass the fuck out of her if she got into the same bed as Adam.

Kay decided to bunk with Naomi, who was probably still awake and doing something on her computer. Before taking her sleepwear out, she tiptoed over to the sleeping boy in her bed and lightly brushed some hair out of his face. Without a second thought, Kay leaned down and briskly kissed his forehead. In a few seconds, she took her stuff and silently ran out of the room.

The room went silent after the floorboards stopped creaking. It wasn't a clean room, nor was it overly messy either, but there were quite a few things strewn about; loose schoolwork, dirty and clean clothes, some mail that sat spread out on top of her drawers.

After Kay left the room, a weak smile grew on Adam's lips. He had been awake since Kay put him in her bed, and he tried desperately not to 'wake up' whilst she was there. Adam opened his eyes and sat up in the bed. The sheets were an olive drab green, along with the pillow covers. They gave an impression of the military, but they were warm and soft so that impression quickly washed away.

To Adam's surprise, the room wasn't as 'girly' as he thought it would have been. Instead, it reminded him of his Field Marshall's office. There was a certain balance of proper and improper to her room, a strange balance of order and disorder. It was definitely Kay's room, that's for sure. In the darkness, he couldn't make out much in the room other than silhouettes and blacked-out shapes of all sizes. One thing he could easily make out was her bomber jacket hanging up beside the door, and two pairs of mud-covered boots underneath it. Kay's and a much larger sized pair. They must have been his own because he couldn't feel the boots on his feet.

Only just realising he was still in his tank uniform, and that it was covered in dirt, he started unbuttoning the items of clothing. Adam didn't consider the consequences of stripping down, all he cared about was not getting Kay's bed _too _dirty and his own comfort.

Whilst he started taking off his trousers, he suddenly felt an aching pain in his shin. He quickly slipped off the dirt-sodden clothing and closely inspected his lower leg, brushing fingertips over where it hurt. Swiping over the area of incident, he felt his fingers get warmer with a slick layer of a liquid.

"Huh?" Adam silently voiced, wiping away the blood with his thumb. There was only a dull pain, but that might have been because he was so tired. Taking off his thick black socks, he wrapped and tied them around his shin and decided to leave the wound for the morning, sleep called and he wasn't about to decline it.

Laying back down in just his off-white vest and black boxers, he tucked himself in. There was nary an embarrassing thought of the fact that Kay had slept in this bed before him, but when he turned over and his nose hit the pillow he was immediately punched in the face with the smell of her hair.

Instantly conked out, Adam slept with a small smile on his face.


	17. 17

**There is so much that I want to write but most of it is for many chapters to come, like for chapter 20 or smth and I actually want to die. So many ideas but I can't write them yet :( *angery Kekled noises***

**Honestly, I'm not sure if I should make another story that continues their Uni life from this and we get to see them go through adulthood but I think this fic will be coming to an end pretty soon.**

**There are a last few things I need to tie up before we move on though, so don't worry about it ending _too _soon.**

**The average book/novel has around 90,000 words in it, and this will probably hit 85,000 after this chapter so I might do an extra chapter or two to finish off. **

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"I don't think I'll live not being able to see you for two months." Darjeeling and Jason sat in a cafe, the same one as their first date, and this will be the last date in Japan. There are only two more days of school and then most third-year students will be packing up and leaving. The sad thing was that the lovely couple would be flying different airlines. One is going to London Stanstead and the other to Edinburgh, so once they departed from Tokyo Haneda they wouldn't be seeing each other for a little while.

"Aye, ye'll be 'right, I'm upset about it too. But... I have to visit my family before I can do anything else."

"I understand. You do what you must, but for not having seen them for over a year I would have thought you'd spend more time with them."

"I know, but I want to do what I do best: being a tank commander. I heard Oxbridge has set up a university team for the new semester." Jason hinted to Darjeeling that she should join the team, as he knew that she had applied for Cambridge University.

"I'll be signing up on the first day, don't you worry." Darjeeling smiled warmly at her partner, but then it faltered, "but aren't you going for an apprenticeship? You didn't apply for a university?"

"Aye, I'll be an instructor for colleges. They're already asking for trainees and I've applied to a few."

"That's brilliant! How exhilarating, Jason's going to become a teacher." Darjeeling cupped her face with her hand, contently looking out the window as she thought of Jason teaching lower year students.

"Don't get ahead of yerself, Darj, I haven't been accepted yet," Jason stated, pulling her out of her second-long daydream.

"Mm, I know, but there are high chances and I'm being positive."

"Cheers, darlin'."

"Of course," Darjeeling gave him one of the sweetest smiles he'd ever seen, and he wished he could capture it and frame it and show it off to the world. It was a smile to protect and love, a smile that he'd never get bored of seeing. Jason pulled his coffee cup to his lips and took a shallow drink, watching the blonde beauty across from him closely.  
"You're staring again~"

"Sorry, but you're too gorgeous to look away from." Jason leaned on his free hand and took another sip of his coffee

"When did you become such a smooth talker?" Taking her eyes off the street outside, she looked at the red-haired boy with a raised eyebrow.

"Hm, I'm not sure actually." Jason chewed the inside of his cheek in thought, looking up at the ceiling. "Remind me, when did I first meet you?" Both Jason and Darjeeling let out a small laugh, with Jason grinning afterwards as he saw a growing blush on Darjeeling's cheeks. The slight touch of pink on her cheeks made her evermore so cuter than before, merely adding to her 'divinity' that Jason liked to apply to her. Moments passed and the two of them basked in the comfortable silence that had set in, staring off into random distances idly internalising the sweet early-spring weather.

The other customers in the cafe were in low, quiet conversations, or reading, or writing, or eating. People were getting on with their daily lives and the scene itself seemed natural. The young couple couldn't imagine a moment much better than this. School had only just finished for the day and the commander couple decided a date was preferable to the alternative; preparing the underclassmen for the next year.

"When we've finished our drinks, shall we head back? No rush, of course," holding her teacup in both hands, she angled it up and took a short sip of the hot liquid.

"Sure, I've got some final checks to do on the tanks that are going to be shipped," Jason flapped the newspaper he was reading, not taking his eyes off it as he spoke to Darjeeling.

"You were supposed to do that this morning," Darjeeling's voice wore a hint of irritation within it.

"Aye, I was. But you come first," taking his gaze away from the latest news, Jason cheekily winked at Darjeeling.

"That's... hmph..." A familiar blush adorned the cheeks of Darjeeling, causing her to look away once again.

"Are you saying you'd do the work first?" Jason folded up the paper and dropped it on the table in front of him with a quiet flap, leaning forwards and squinting his eyes slightly.

"I... No, I wouldn't. You've got me there," Darjeeling looked back at her sly boyfriend, seeing a huge grin appear on his face.

"There you go then," stretching his arms out and leaning back into his chair, Jason wrapped his fingers around his white coffee mug and picked it up. "English Lit, yeah?"

"Yes," immediately understanding his random question, Darjeeling smiled to herself, "and philosophy."

"Philosophy? You do much thinking with that then?" The silly comments continued, and it only widened Darjeeling's smile.

"Yes, a fair amount actually. However, most of it is studying thinkers rather than thinking for ourselves."

"Shame, but I'm sure you'll be top of your class."

"May-" Darjeeling began, but was suddenly interrupted by someone rushing into the cafe. A short raven-haired girl dressed in the uniform of St Gloriana glanced around the room. When her eyes laid on Jason, she made haste to speedwalk over to him.

"I'm sorry for interrupting your time together, but there's something incredibly important that needs to be seen to at this moment in time. Jason, there's an urgent call for you back on the ship, you need to hurry!" The girl rattled off and her speech was hardly intelligible, Jason was only just about able to understand most of what she said. The girl was short of breath and desperately trying to recompose herself.

Darjeeling gave her boyfriend a worried look, and he returned it with a confused look. Accepting the black-haired girl's statement, Jason quickly got out of his chair and kissed the top of Darjeeling's head. Smiling warily at him, she briskly squeezed his hand.

"I'll be back as soon as I can, don't you worry." Regrettably letting go of her hand, he turned away and hurriedly left the cafe.

"I hold it against you if you don't..." Darjeeling watched as the girl and Jason climbed into an army Land Rover waiting outside. As soon as they were in it turned around on the street and drove away, leaving Darjeeling by herself in the cafe.

Closing her eyes, the Commander of St Gloriana sipped her tea.

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_R: This is... not exactly what I expected to happen but... _

_H: But?_

_R: It's given us better results than what we had planned._

_H: That's a good thing, right?_

_R: Concerning the fact that not only did Charles die but so did seven others, I'm still figuring that out._

_H: We knew and they knew that someone was going to get hurt, I don't see-_

_R: **Hurt**, exactly. They expected hurt, not pain. They were on the edge because they knew Erik was, and still is, an extremely dangerous person. They brought their guns because of him. That match was set up to fail, and it was never an experience made for the girls, it was made by the Boss so those four crews would fight. There's no other way of looking at it other than that._

_H: I see where you're coming from but it's not like that._

_R: Then what is it? What, pray tell, could it possibly have been other than slaughter for those boys! They didn't deserve any of it, not even Erik and his crew._

_H: I... I can't tell you._

_R: You can't tell me? Am I being kept out of a loop here or something?_

_H: I'm sorry, Regina._

_R: Huh? Wait, Ha-_

_*R HAS BEEN DISCONNECTED*_

_H: I'm sorry... _

_B: It's time to get things started, Harry, we have no time to lose. _

_H: Yes, Boss. I'll get on it right away._

_B: Don't think about her, if you do it will only slow you down. I'll bring in another._

_H: Yes, Boss._

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"The caller? Did they give their name?" Jason sat worriedly in the passenger's seat in the car, bouncing his knee up and down from the anxiety.

"No, she only said that it was urgent and she needed to talk to you. She sounded quite desperate to talk..." The black-haired girl was sitting behind and between the passenger and the driver, leaning forward so it was easier to talk to Jason.

"Right, I'll be back out after I'm done with the call," the Land Rover stopped outside of the reception office to the school, allowing Jason to hop off and jog inside.

"Ok, there's no rush if it's an urgent call," the ravenette called out to him before he entered the building, getting a short wave in acknowledgement from him. Jason didn't have a clue who this person could have been, and all the people he'd met so far other than Darjeeling wouldn't call him and say it was urgent, so every possibility was chucked out the window for him. Reaching over the receptionist's desk, Jason grabbed the phone and put it to his ear.

"Hello? This is Jason Stevenson speaking."

"Ooh Jason! Ye finally picked up the phone! Ah've ben soo worried 'bout ya! Ah 'eard the news that ye got 'urt! Ye were in the hospital! Are you aw'right?" A loud, Scottish woman shouted through the phone, causing Jason to pull away from the phone from his ear and angle his neck the opposite way. Her babbling and question-asking continued even after Jason pulled the phone away.

"Mum?" Guessing who it was, and how they reacted, Jason interrupted the caller and assumed them as his 'mother'.

"Aye? Wat is et, Sweetheart?" Her voice suddenly calmed in an instant, her voice was focused and clear compared to her earlier unintelligible rambling.

"I..." Jason couldn't think of anything to say to his 'mother', _he _had no attachment to her, but the previous Jason did. Rudy's words echoed in his head as he thought about it, he wasn't who he thought he was anymore and all he could do was remember the memories of the body he inherited. Jason had no clue of what to do, and suddenly there existed a spark in his eyes.

An instantaneous twinge of a searing pain hit him deep in his head. He dropped the phone and tightly gripped his head. Shutting his eyes and gritting his teeth, the pain was something worse than being shot or being burned. Excruciating, brutalising pain stabbing Jason's pain brought his down to his knees.

"F-fuck!" In the fear of the pain, he doubled over and firmly clenched his fingers around his head, hoping in some way that the pain would end and his hands could protect him. Jason's fight-or-flight instincts kicked in and he began sprawling away from the receptionist's desk.

"Jason!?"

His mother's words penetrated the pain in his head and a blinding flash of colours and lights smacked his thoughts.

It all came to him, after hearing the voice of his mother he remembered everything his body experienced before he went to Japan.

Everything.

17 Years of someone's life uploaded to his brain in seconds, and the pain from it couldn't be compared to anything recorded by humans.

Yet it was only for a moment, but for that moment Jason thought he would die.

"Jason? Are you ok? Jason!" His mother, the mother that cared for him for seventeen years was calling for him, checking if he was ok. Jason, now breathing rapidly and through desperation trying to slow down his heart rate.

He could remember being Captain Jason Montgomery Stevenson, son of Robert and Olivia, but also Jason Stevenson III, son of Jay and Sophia, born in separate times but somehow joined together. One person has become the other. However, Jason's life continued on from the War and he got married and had kids, causing all of this to happen.

_"What if it'll come back to you, like how we learned about all of this technology and how to just go along with it?"_

How did Rudy know about all of this?

Jason shakily got back up from the floor and took the phone in his hand.

"Jason? Are you alright?" Worry was clear as day in his mother's voice, ounces of fear could be heard from it too.

"Aye, Ma. I... I'm alright." The pain had subsided but he could still remember it, sweating now from the anxiety.

"Thank goodness! What happened? Did you get hurt again?"

"I... No. I think I'm alright, Ma, don't worry about it," Jason massaged the right side of his head, leaned against the desk and continued to try and catch his breath. The heaps of confusion had already set in but this was unbelievable, he couldn't catch up to his own mind and the levels of disbelief he made in himself was more than baffling.

"If ye say so..." His mother paused for a moment, "how is Japan? I hear it hasn't been treating you that nicely,"

"Aye, well... I've had a few cuts and bruises but other than that, it's been..." Remembering the common hospital visits and the mental breakdowns, Jason couldn't say that this was a good time for him. He had Darjeeling, of course, but he thought she was the only good thing that came out of this. He didn't ask for anything else to happen, but it definitely isn't in his control to manipulate the world around him.

Then he thought about last week, and the gunshots and the blood and the death. And Charles.

"Sweetheart? Are you sure you're alright?" His mother was still concerned, probably from the long pause Jason took.

"Uh... yeah... Don't worry about it."

"As stubborn as yer father, can't get much out o' ya hey? Anyway, I got a message from the Federation saying that you'll be coming home soon?"

"Aye, I will be."

"I'm so excited! Ye'll have to tell me all 'bout yer time in Japan when ye get back!"

"Yeah... a lot has happened over the past year so we could be there for a while..." Jason's eyes diverted down to his boots, trying to push the images of Charles out of his head.

"Ah, thas aw'right. It's ben too long since I talked to mah wee boy, I wouldn't mind sitting down with ye to listen."

"Thanks, Ma."

"Anyway, I called because I got some papers from the hospitals you've been in."

_Shite_

"I don't know how many times ah have to tell ya, but ye need to look after yerself! Yer body isnae a punching bag nor a test dummy!"

"Aye, Ma, I know."

"Then explain to me how ye've ben in the hospital five times in the past year!"

"Accidents..." Jason took a deep breath and continued under his breath, "mostly..."

"Accidents? Is tankery that dangerous?"

"No, just my crew and I being too careless, all the girls were a lot more careful because they know of the dangers."

"And ye didnae think to take after them and look out fer dangers?"

"No, n-"

"Ah! Speaking of girls!"

_Oh no_

"Did you find someone? A Japanese girl? Is she pretty? What's she like?"

"Ah didnae say nothing and ye just assumed!"

"Aye but yer such a handsome lad, et's expected to see ye with a girl?"

_Is it? _Jason frowned, knowing that he personally had never been with a girl before it's strange to hear that. "Right... Well, if ye must know I have found someone..." After saying that, he wasn't so sure if it was a good idea to tell her. In response, she cheered incredibly loudly over the phone, causing Jason to pull away from the phone again.

"Wat's her name?"

"Darjeeling, and she's... an amazing person."

"Ye sound so lovestruck, sweetheart! Awww, et's too cute! I bet she's gorgeous, isn't she?"

"Aye, she is," Jason smiled to himself as he pictured Darjeeling right now, sitting in the Cafe with the light from the window highlighting her perfect figure and illuminating her soft blonde hair.

"Is this her last year in school too?"

"Mhm, she's going to Cambridge in the new semester."

"Ooh, so she's a brainy lass?"

"Yes, she's a 'brainy lass'. Top of her classes in everything."

"And you? How have your studies been?"

"Eh, so so. Not bad but not as good as her. Getting C's and B's."

"You need to do better!"

"Yeah, I know."

The two girls in the Land Rover outside waited an extra hour and a half for Jason to leave. His conversation with his mum went on for probably too long and the ravenette had actually fallen asleep in the back because of his lengthy chat. He left with neither a grimace nor a smile, but a facial expression that said that he was content and satisfied with the conversation he had. Taking his seat back next to the driver, Jason drummed his fingertips on his knees.

"How'd it go?" The driver asked after a few minutes of silence, driving in the direction of the bridge that connected the school ship and the port.

"Hm? Oh, right. I'm sorry I took so long..." Reading the clock from the cockpit of the car, Jason raised his eyebrows in surprise from the sudden change in time.

"That wasn't what I said,"

"Yeah, it was good."

"What was so urgent about it? If you don't mind me asking of course."

"It was just my mum worrying about me, she over-reacted about my hospital visits."

"Ah, that makes more sense now. I'm surprised at how quickly you can switch languages though."

"Hm?"

"What? Earlier she didn't speak Japanese so I had to use my awful English to try and calm her down. That was embarrassing..." A light flush of pink arose on the girls' cheeks as she remembered her own terrible attempt at a foreign language.

"Eh, well... It comes naturally I suppose."

"When did you start learning Japanese then? You speak it like you've lived here your whole life."

"I had a really good teacher," Jason guessed, but he never remembered being taught how to speak or write in Japanese, but somehow it came to him as easily as the alphabet.

"That makes sense. Ah, Darjeeling has probably been waiting for you all this time and she didn't know when you'd be back." The truck was nearing the cafe that the couple had been at earlier, just turning onto the road that it was on.

"She knew it was urgent, but I should really make it up to her for taking up so much time..."

"Good thinking, she is the Commander after all, she deserves it."

"Yeah... thanks for the ride."

"No problem, it gave me something to do." The driver stopped in front of the cafe and allowed Jason enough time to hop off to just speed away straight after. The ravenette in the backseat never made a sound the whole journey, and she was still asleep.

Jason saw Darjeeling through the window, her back turned away and her nose buried deep in her book. Her teacup looked empty from where he was. Perhaps he could make it up to her by bringing her over for dinner.

He walked up to the door and pushed it open, the bell above the door rung and was hardly loud enough to bring Darjeeling to look over her book. This gave him a chance to sneak up on her, and from previous experiences, this was a terrible idea and one that never worked. His steps were light and he never saw her eyes shift from her book, so maybe this was his chance.

He crept up behind her and through sheer stupidity or clumsiness, he kicked a neighbouring chair, causing it to creak loudly and scrape the floor.

"Hello, sweetheart. Were you trying to creep up on me?" The divine angel that sat before him barely moved, barely reacted, barely did anything, and she was already obliterating him with her words.

"Pft, no. Where'd ya get tha' idea from?" In a higher-pitched voice than normal, Jason tried to play off his clumsy stupidity with ignorance.

"You were lighter on your feet and you were keeping away from my line of sight, so I assumed you were trying to. Also, that wasn't a very believable lie,"

"Ah wasnae lyin', what a horrible assumption ta make," Jason seated himself in the chair he just kicked, but it was now situated next to Darjeeling.

"Mhm? I think I've read your tell for when you lie, I think I should watch out for it."

"Eh? My tell? Wha' the hell's tha'?"

"How I know when you're lying. At the moment, it's quite an innocent, cute lie, but... hm... nevermind." Finally peeling her eyes off the book, Darjeeling looked at her boyfriend with those warm, ocean-blue eyes.

"Aww, come awwwnnn. Ye cannae do tha' to someone!" Jason inched closer to the table and leaned his head on it.

Darjeeling simply just giggled, putting her book down and trying desperately to stifle her laugh. It was infectious, and she was _fucking adorable_ when she laughed, so Jason couldn't help but chuckle along with her. Darjeeling slotted her bookmark between the pages and closed the book, then pushed it to one side and turned her full attention to the sleepy-looking redhead.

"The call, how was it?"

"Change o' the subject huh? Well, it was just from me Ma, checking up on me."

"Checking on you? It seemed a lot more urgent than a check-up..."

"Aye, well... me Ma likes to over-play things, it's her 'thing' that she does. She was more worried about how many times I was sent to the hospital..."

"I'm not the only one then, thank goodness."

"Ah didnae tell her 'bout last week. She dunnae need to know 'bout it until I feel ready to tell her. She knew Charles' family quite well..."

"I see... I'm here for you, and I will be for as long as you need me."

"You're a saint, you know that?"

"You seem to have an affinity for such things, and I don't mind being your saint, my love," she extended a tender hand to the side of his face and smiled endearingly at him. His face looked tired, and she knew that he hadn't been getting much good sleep recently because of how early he'd be for classes. Always dishevelled and raggedy-looking, the redhead never seemed to be late. Darjeeling later found out that he was never late to school because he always got up early, or didn't get much sleep, or any sleep at all.

"You're too good to me..." Jason wrapped his arms around Darjeeling's waist, burying his head into her shoulder.

"You'd do the same for me, I know you would," Darjeeling carefully caressed the back of his head and leaned her own into his. Their closeness let each other know that they felt safe with one another, that their insecurities and troubles would be handled together, as a team, as a couple.

"That goes without saying..." a long, exhausted sigh escaped the Scot's cracked lips.

"How about you go to bed, hm?" Leaning back slightly to look at him, Darjeeling slid her right hand down his head, neck, then his shoulder and found a warm place on his upper arm.

"Mm... but... I've still got stuff to do," Jason pulled his head away and looked at Darjeeling, his eyes half-lidded and dark.

"I'm sure taking the rest of today off for some rest won't hurt, you need it Jason, and I don't want you to come to school tomorrow looking like a zombie," there was a friendly sternness to her voice, a kind of tone that said to him that she cared for his well-being.

"Yeah, maybe. Rukiriri would be pretty upset if I just ditched checking the tanks."

"That's fine, I can talk to her."

"You sure?" Jason's eyebrows raised as much as they could go, the surprise was very clear on his face.

"Of course, she wouldn't mind too much. I can't just ask someone else to cover for you for today."

"Ahh, you're a saint."

"And you need to go to bed, mister."

"We're no' even on the ship?"

"Then let's get going."

"Only if you carry me."

"Ha ha."

Jason and Darjeeling paid for their drinks and left the café, walking hand-in-hand down the path towards the school ship. Some would say it was an unlikely match; a six foot, problematic redhead from a foreign land and a 5'2", sophisticated blonde girl. They made it work, and they didn't care about what everyone thought of them because all they cared about were each other and the ones close to them, no one else.


	18. 18

April, the month where third years prepare for university or a career. It's also the month which students who plan on going to a University in a foreign country begin to wait. In the Russian's case, they neither prepared nor waited. They didn't even wait until the end of the Japanese school year to leave for Russia. After the failure of the mil-sim match, they boarded the plane that took their comrades overseas and went straight home. No paperwork was written, nothing was signed. They just got on with all of their things and left.

"Dmitri. Let's go. Mama and Papa are waiting for us," Vasily held out a train ticket to his brother, his hand shook slightly when it was outstretched.

"Yeah, alright," Dmitri took the ticket and slipped it through the machine, and then passed the threshold into the Moscow metro. Vasily followed him through and adjusted the bag on his back.

"We really didn't have much with us, did we?" A weak chuckle came from the younger brother as he quickly caught up with Dmitri.

"Nothing much that was important, anyway," Dmitri stuffed his hands into his pockets, walking down the stairs and feeling the fresh rush of that familiar metallic air.

"I'll miss them..." Vasily said sorrowfully, "I don't want to go back to a school without them. They were our brothers, we-" Dmitri turned around at the bottom of the stairs and stared at his younger brother. The random flow of commuters muttering unintelligible comments of annoyance by the brothers' sudden stop.

"They're dead, Vasily," the older boy paused, looked down at his clenched fists and then back up to his brother. "We couldn't do anything about it back then, so we can't do anything about it now. What matters is that we are alive, nothing else." Turning back and continuing to walk, Dmitri swallowed the growing lump in his throat. He forcefully detached himself from Mischa's, Grigory's, and Yuri's deaths so he could remain that stoic and strong figure for his younger brother. He didn't want to breakdown in front of him, he didn't want to show weakness to him.

It was bad enough that when they first joined Pravda he had his younger brother speak for him, it was humiliating and embarrassing. None of the boys wanted their commander to be silent, Grigory and Mischa were talking about him behind his back. Dmitri, despite his closest comrades' comments, finally got a grip of himself and assumed the leader of the group, just like he had back in Russia, Poland, and Germany.

Dmitri stepped onto the platform that was due northbound with his brother, staring at the poster on the other side of the tunnel. The hustle and bustle of the Moscow metro wasn't surprising, it was about midday during the week so people had business that they were attending. Everyone has a life, a story, something that makes them '_them'_. Every person has a defining feature or two that makes them hugely separate from everyone else, everyone is an individual.

The train arrived at the platform and the doors opened. Some people got off, and Dmitri and Vasily stepped to the side for them to easily leave. Once they got off, the brothers walked in and found two seats to sit on. You could tell they were brothers because of their hair and their eyes. They were almost exactly the same colours. Dmitri had his hair shorter than Vasily's, he kept it short so it wouldn't get too much in the way of his Shlemofon. Vasily, however, had his hair long and wore it in a messy ponytail that hung loosely at his nape. Some strands of his hair swept along at the sides of his face and he never made an effort to push them away.

Their eyes were a milk-chocolate brown. They were soft eyes. Vasily's were kinder than Dmitri's, but that was mainly because he was a nicer person than his older brother. As much as those brown orbs were kind, what they had seen in their time in the army wasn't. It wasn't just the death, but the betrayal of their comrades that they saw too often. Infantry was sacrificed likes pawns. In Dmitri's eyes, all of the infantry he met were faceless bodies that could talk. He made no effort to care for them if they weren't an officer.

"Do you think Mama and Papa will be happy to see us?" Vasily spoke up after 10 minutes of staring at their feet. The train had already left the metro and they had just left the third station.

"Papa will be," Dmitri replied with a hopeful voice, "I know he will be for sure."

"And Mama?" Vasily looked up to his right at his brother's face, searching for some faith in their mothers' love for them.

"She'll probably be too busy with work to care," a deep exhale left Dmitri. He leaned back into the seat and started reading the map of the trainline. Vasily and Dmitri had caught up with their family whilst they were in Pravda, fully expecting the original phone number to be the same. It wasn't, and they had to search through their school files to find their parents' numbers. They called home and their father had picked up. He was happy to hear from them and asked a lot of questions. They asked to talk with their mother, but their father went quiet;

_'She's busy at the moment, I'm sorry boys. Call another time and I'm sure she'll talk to you... anyway, how has school been?'_

That's how it was for the next few calls. She never talked to them. What could have been more important than her own children?

She did talk once, however. It was only for a short amount of time, just a few sentences worth of conversation was passed between Vasily and their mother. She had spoken with a dry tone, like she was already bored of the conversation. Perhaps she didn't care.

"Why does she never talk to us?" Questioned Vasily, his hands curling into fists.

"I don't know, but I don't care anymore," returning his gaze to his booted feet, Dmitri rolled his heel around on the carriage floor.

]

Dmitri and Vasily made it to the front door of their new home. They had never lived in Moscow before, and when measuring up the size of the building, they realised they were born into some considerable wealth. Dmitri lifted his hand up to press the buzzer, but before his finger could land the door was unlocked and swung open.

A sweet smell flushed out and hit the brothers, it was a raspberry smell and they instantly recognised the warmth it brought with it. A jovial-looking, burly man stood at the door with a huge grin. He was shorter than the brothers perhaps by a head, but just by his looks they knew he was their father.

"My boys!" He shouted, grabbing them both and tugging them into a tight hug. He smelled like raspberries and tobacco smoke. "Ah, it's so good to see you! You've grown since the last time I saw you."

"Hello, Papa. It's good to be back," Dmitri returned the hug. His old memories of his father had linked well with this one, like a perfect match but only about 80 years later.

"Is that Grandmama's Raspberry Kompot I can smell?" Vasily's smile was blinding, and he was beginning to let his nose lead him into the house.

"It is! I thought I'd welcome you both home with a hot mug of Kompot. I'm sure there's a lot to talk about. Come in, don't stand out there all day!" With a hearty laugh, their father stepped to the side and let the brothers enter the premises. Now taking a longer look at him, their father seemed like a very relaxed man. He was wearing a light blue polo that was snug around his shoulders and showed off his large arms. He was also wearing a pair of khaki cargo shorts that showed probably too much pale leg. His brown hair, the same colour as Dmitri's and Vasily's, was cut quite short at maybe a grade 2.

Dmitri and Vasily walked into the house and let their noses guide them through. It was their first time in this building, yet they felt like they had spent all of their lives here. Taking off their boots at the door and neatly packing them away, the brothers excitedly went into the kitchen and found the brewing pot of homemade love. They hovered their noses over the pot and let the sugary smells enter their heads, happily reliving memories just from the smell alone.

"It hasn't finished yet, so why don't you get comfortable in the living room? I'll call your mother down too and we'll sit together as family," their father moved a towel from his back pocket onto the marble counter and then left the room.

"This is not what I expected our home to be like..." Vasily whispered after their father left the room, unzipping his jacket and pulling it off. Dmitri and Vasily walked through the other doorway and entered the living room. It was furnished with rich red sofas and a dark oak coffee table. The walls were papered with a red and golden floral pattern, suggesting once again the wealth that their parents had. _What exactly were their jobs?_

Plopping himself down into one of the few armchairs, Vasily made himself comfortable and looked around the room some more. There was a large painting of Putin on the opposite wall, sided by two tall bookshelves filled to the brim with new and old books. To the right were windows overlooking the street, and to the left was a doorway to another room.

"Hey, d'ya think the reason Mama is so cold with us is because she's secret service or something?" Vasily whispered to his brother. Although it sounded silly, he was totally serious. It would explain the wealth and her emotions towards them but it seemed unlikely.

"I think I remember seeing somewhere that she worked for the Kremlin and that was it, so it might be likely. We shouldn't talk to lightly about stuff like that, you know what happens to people who do." Both of them paused for a moment and Vasily retreated into his chair. "I know Papa is an official for the Russian Tankery Federation, so that could be a reason for their wealth. I'm pretty sure he used to be an officer in the army too..." Dmitri scratched his chin in thought, and as he thought he read the numerous titles lining the bookshelves on the far wall.

"Welcome home. It's been a while," a tall, black-haired woman dressed in a white shirt, black jacket, and black pencil skirt entered the room with their father. She was serious, both her looks and her aura. It was uninviting and intimidating. Vasily and Dmitri both made a mental note never to piss her off.

"Mama, I missed you," Vasily got up and hugged her, receiving an equally love-filled hug in return.

"I missed you too, I'm sorry I never found the time to talk to you, but I'm busy a lot of the time. I will try to spend more time with you two, but I can't guarantee that I will have a lot of time," there was a saddened look on her face, like she was regretful for not having much time to call her own two sons. That was when it clicked in Dmitri's mind: she only seemed cold because Dmitri and Vasily said she was. She only seemed distant because she barely had any time to talk to them. They misjudged her and their opinions of her softened.

"It's alright, we were busy with training too so it couldn't really be helped," Dmitri got up too and walked up to both his parents.

"You've become a man now, Dmitri. You really have grown up. I'm sorry I didn't get you anything for your 18th..." there was a genuine sincerity in her voice as she spoke, she was seriously upset with her own lack of connection with her eldest son and she was showing it. Was this just an act put on or was this serious? Vasily's comment about secret service swam around in his mind as well as his own doubts.

"It's alright, Mama. I spent it well with Vasily and...and..." _my crew_. The memory of him spending time with his friends around a fire late at night with bottles of vodka all in their hands smacked rushed into his head, and now he realised he could never make memories like that with them. Boys he knew for over a decade were now gone, and he couldn't do anything to help them.

His vision suddenly got cloudy and his knees became weak. This was the breaking point, and he couldn't hold it in anymore. He was home now, and he could let it out.

]

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_"Ma said she'd be waiting for me. God, I hope she isn't loud when she sees me," _Jason thought to himself, pulling some luggage behind him and beginning to turn the corner into the main hall. As soon as the people waiting could be seen, he instantly recognised a family of four with crazy red hair. _Yep, that must be them_.

"Jason!" The red-headed woman yelled, throwing her arms up in the air at the sight of him. Immediately regretting telling his parents his time of arrival, Jason groaned loudly and slumped his posture. His mum ran up to him and pulled him into a tight hug, rocking him from side to side. Trying not to get choked to death, Jason held his breath so it couldn't get squished out of him.

"Ooh ets so good to see ya! Ma wee boy has come back home!" Sophia, Jason's mother, pulled away from her son and beamed at him. "Let's get ye home!" Behind Sophia, Jason could see Jay, his father. Jason was taken aback when he realised that Jay closely resembled his own father, Robert. Jason was incredibly comfortable with Sophia because she looked so much like his mother. A pit formed in Jason's chest and the memories of Robert being abusive towards him resurfaced. Was it the same? Was it the same in this time too, where Jason was abused by his father?

Lilith and Eve seemed like they didn't want to be at the airport, and they didn't smile when Jason caught their gazes. He thought to himself that maybe the original Jason had upset them in some way, or they didn't want to show that they cared in a public place. They were surprisingly tall and weren't exactly what he expected. They looked fit and healthy, and their figures reminded him of the female rugby players he had seen whilst surfing the TV channels. They both had shoulder-length, curled, orange hair, like fire flowed effortlessly off their heads. To Jason, they intimidated him and he couldn't work out whether they were older or younger than him.

"Ah, let me take your luggage for ya," Jay walked up to Jason and offered to drag the luggage for him. Jason stared up at him and took a step back. He was surprised at how friendly he was because he looked so much like his original father, but he was still incredibly cautious of him; as if he were stepping on eggshells around him. Jay's accent was a lot tamer than Sophia's, and he kept a calm voice. Although he sounded calm, the beaming smile on his face said otherwise.

Both his new parents seemed to be very happy he was home, and this was the kind of welcome Jason wished for. Yet he held so many doubts in his mind. Jay and Sophia looked a lot like his original parents, and it scared him. He was so ok with Sophia because he hadn't seen Olivia in over 30 years, almost 40. It frightened him, but this family was kind to him.

A loving family was something he always dreamed of. Even when his original mother, Olivia, gave him unconditional love for him he hoped that his father would one day at least show an ounce of love to his only son.

This was better, far better. Jason no longer lived in the 1940s, he now lived about 80 years in the future with a family that showed it cared by picking him up at the airport. In full honesty, he was expecting to arrive and take a bus or train to the town north of Edinburgh but instead, they came to pick him up.

That was when he began to realise that he was not the true son of Jay and Sophia or the brother of Lilith and Eve, but in some twisted way, he was related to them from higher up. _He _married someone after the war and had kids of his own, but here he was in an 18-year-old body in Edinburgh 80-something years after the war. It didn't make any more sense to him now than it did a year ago when he first arrived in Japan. He still hadn't made any progress on the cause of this all, and he needed to get back in contact with Rudy.

He began thinking over the character of the body he has. His great-grandson. That was a weird thought. He wondered where he was now, and he was either dead or switched places with him in 1945 Germany.

He shivered at that thought, hoping in some way that he was safe and he didn't come under any harm. But what if this all happened because of this? There was that multiverse theory Seamus once talked about, but Jason didn't make much sense of any of it. All he got from it was that there are an infinite amount of possible realities where stuff happened and where stuff didn't happen.

_'Pfftt, fuck it. It dusnae make sense and I have more important things to think about right now, like settling into my new family. That makes me sound like I was adopted. Heh. Weird. I could really do with a drink about now.'_

There was a half an hour drive from the airport to the house. It wasn't big, nor small. It was quite an average-sized, semi-detached house on the corner of a road. There was a minute walk from the house to the nearest shop, which was just a local store that sold basic essentials and getting into the town centre would have been a ten-minute walk. It wasn't far from the station either, maybe a five-minute walk. Basically, it was perfectly situated and Jason's parents did it deliberately.

Lilith and Eve officially welcomed home their brother after he had unpacked most of his stuff and had somewhat settled down. They were a lot nicer than he made them out to be, but there was still some... hostility behind their tones. After inspecting the house more, he looked over all of the photographs of the family, seeing Jay and Sophia when they were younger, baby Jason and the twins, then some more photos that there would usually be in a family household.

The photographs that interested him the most were the ones of his grandfather and great-grandfather. Major Thomas Stevenson seemed like a highly decorated soldier of the British army, one photograph depicted him in full uniform; black watch kilt, khaki jacket and the black Balmoral cap. He was standing in front of a house, which went parallel with his memory of the farmhouse he lived in, far north in Scotland.

"Oi, smelly, yer girlfriend is callin' ya," Lilith stood at the top of the stairs with his phone in her hand, waving it about at shoulder height.

"Ah, cheers," Jason turned from the wall of photographs, then got his phone thrown at him. An immediate shock of fear coursed through his body as he lurched forward to catch the phone. It hit his palm and bounced around as if he were juggling it. He caught it and accepted the call.

"Hey Darj, what's up?"

"Just wanted to make sure you got home safe. Did you?" On the other side of the call, some cars could be heard passing.

"Aye, got home about quarter of an hour ago, maybe. You settled in nicely too?" Jason climbed the stairs, feeling the velvety soft carpet under his feet. It was something different from the creaky floorboards and the cold stone he was used to.

"Mhm, so far so good. I'm doing a little bit of exploring at the moment, such a wonderful city,"

"Never been, but I know it's a nice place," passing Lilith on the landing, Jason gave her a side-eye then entered his room.

"I'm sure by the time you're here I'll have lots to show you,"

"I'm countin' on it," Jason sat down at his desk and picked up a pen.

"There was something else I wanted to say but I can't remember... hm. Ah! Yes, there was somebody at the Uni that claimed they knew you? His name was Rudy. It rings a bell..."

"Rudy? He's enrolled at Cambridge?" The Scot's voice became incredibly inquisitive, he was curious and showed it by leaning forward in his chair.

"Mm, yeah, he said he had something to talk to you about. Do you know what it might be?"

"Some vague ones, aye. But it dusnae matter right now," Jason twirled the pen around in his fingers, then heard a knock on the door. He swivelled in his chair towards his door and saw Sophia standing there.

"Hiya, dunnae want to interrupt yer call but I'd like to remind ye that we're goin' to see yer Grandad tomorrow. Ye'll be aw'right fer that, wontcha?" Sophia leaned against the door with a wide smile on her face. Jason paused for a second and then politely asked Darjeeling to wait a second.

"Uh, aye, sure. Tomorrow didje say?"

"Mhm, get an early night tonight, ok? Or... whatever... yer 18 now so you can do whate'er ye like. So yer aw'right with tomorrow?"

"Aye, Ma, tomorrow is fine,"

"Great," Sophia clasped her hands together in joy, "see ya," she waved to him before leaving his room, then was heard talking to the twins about it. Jason took a moment to think about it, maybe he could ask some questions about himself - or rather his greatgrandad, to Thomas and maybe get an explanation of some kind. He was sure he'd be able to find some photographs or documents that could help him.

"Jason? Are you ok? You suddenly went silent?"

"Hm? Aye, I'm fine, just tired," Jason leaned back in his chair, keeping his phone held close to his ear. He had a lot to think about, and a lot to take in. One of the main things to take in at the moment was his room, and now disorderly it is. Jason began writing a to-do list whilst he was at home for the next two months, because otherwise, he wouldn't have much to do at all other than wait.


	19. 19

"Girls, come on, get off yer damn phones and talk with us," Sophia sat, with the rest of the family plus one, on one of two of a set of sofas that looked like they were bought in the 60s. The sofas were surprisingly well-kept and seemed close to new, and none of the family knew if they were actually from the 60s or not. Where they were, in fact, was in Grandma and Grandad's house, in the highlands of Scotland. It was a warm farmhouse that had been built in the 1890s by a cow farmer. Jason and his parents lived there after the farmer moved on, and apparently, they stayed living in this house since then.

Thomas sat in an old rocking armchair at the end of the living room, as if it were the head of the table. It was made of some sturdy oak wood and soft fabrics. Elizabeth sat next to him in a similar chair, a small wicker basket of knitting supplies beside her.

The wallpaper of the room was a clean beige and the ceiling was painted white. There were numerous photographs and objects on show around the house, one of the most prominent things being shown was in the hallway just outside of the living room, and it was all of his medals and the balmoral cap from when he served the military. The mantlepiece was home to quite a few photographs of Thomas' and Elizabeth's family; their children and their children's children as well as his sister's family.

There were two specific photographs that caught Jason's eye when he entered the room, and it was one of himself in his officer's uniform standing behind a woman seated in a chair, a girl on her lap and a young boy standing beside the woman. The other photograph caused a twinge of pain in Jason's chest, it brought back memories that he didn't want to resurface.

Jason, along with Seamus, Douglas, and Charles, were sitting or standing on the Firefly known as _Ginny. _Jason was sitting in the cupola drinking from a cup, and from his memory it was tea, Seamus was standing on the hull having a rolled-up piece of netting passed up to him by Charles, a large smile on his face. Douglas was sitting cross-legged on top of the turret next to Jason eating from a mess tin. He was eating chicken and beans if he could remember rightly.

"You aw'right, son?" Thomas placed a calloused hand atop Jason's left shoulder and followed his gaze. Jason turned his head away and looked at his grandad, seeing a somewhat saddened but nostalgic look in his eyes. He was a man in his late 70s, but looked fit and healthy. He stood at about six feet tall without a crooked back or dodgy bones, and he always seemed to have a smile on his face. Although he was an avid drinker, he only had a few glasses of whiskey every night unless it was a celebration or holiday - then it'd be quite a few glasses more.

"Aye, I'm alright. Was this great-grandad then?" A timid point was aimed at the man in the cupola, only just realising that he was the only one looking directly at the camera.

"Mhm, he was a great man. You would have loved him, such a kind person. Couldn't have asked for a better father. Y'know, you bear a striking resemblance to him, it's strange," Thomas took a moment to think, and looked over the photograph that first caught Jason's eye, "That's me, the boy standing next to ya great-grandmother. The girl on her lap is your great aunt, she's a doctor. Can't remember what for but I don't care either," a light chuckle came out of him and he continued, "That man there, the strikingly handsome man, is your great-grandfather."

"Who are the others in this photograph?" Pointing, rather than picking it up, Jason referred to the photograph of his crew. They all seemed happy, stuck in this moment forever with smiles on their faces. It was a photograph he can remember having been taken, but he couldn't remember who took it.

"Them? Ah, aye. Well, the man sitting next to your great-grandfather Jason was Douglas Hitch, he was best friends with this cheeky wee man called Charles Samson. they were like two brothers, couldn't separate them. Until, of course..." Thomas' expression turned colder, and it brought a lump to Jason's throat. He silently hoped it wasn't true, that Charles died before they could stop fighting. "He died in Korea... along with three other crews. I only met him once, and that was before they went off to Korea. I was only maybe... three? at the time. I was born in '47, he left in '50, aye, I was three."

"Been a while then,"

"Aye," Thomas chuckled, "it's been a while," he took a moment to look at the photograph of his parents and sister.

"That was _Ginny,_ wasn't it? The Firefly?" Now carefully picking up the photograph of the tank crew as if it was an ancient relic, Jason focused on the tank that the four men were on.

"Oh, aye. Ye must have become quite acquainted with her in the last year. How is she?"

"Runs like a dream, she's coming back to Scotland soon. I'd say maybe a day or two until you see her again,"

"I watched the matches, by the way," a large smile grew on his face, "when watchin' ya, it reminded me of your great-grandfather."

"Maybe I just take after him, somehow,"

"Heh, somehow, aye," Thomas' eyes became softer, and wetter, and he swallowed hard, "you know, your Great-grandad knew this day would come. The day when you'd be taking his place in the commander's seat. If he were here to see you now, he'd be incredibly proud of you,"

In a quieter tone, Jason responded, "I'm sure we would have gotten on quite well."

"It's a shame he didn't get to see you, if only he held on for a couple more years," Thomas patted Jason's shoulder, the proud smile masking the sadness in his eyes.

"I'll fight in his name, Grandad, and maybe you can watch him again," Jason wasn't sure what he was saying, but Thomas seemed to get it.

"Make us proud, son, I know you will," Thomas grinned at Jason and gently took the photo from his hands, looking over it and then placing it back on the mantle piece.

"I found out just the other day that I'll be working as an instructor for the new university teams. I might be given the opportunity to fight alongside them during matches," Jason stepped away from the mantle, and Thomas sat back down into his arm chair. Jason sat across from him in one of the sofas. The rest of the family seemed to be deep in conversation with Grandma Elizabeth.

"Oh? Which university?" Thomas leaned back in the chair, resting his hands on his lap.

"Cambridge, then I'll be with my girlfriend too," Jason smiled to himself, then instantly regretted saying 'girlfriend'. The room went silent and everyone was looking at him.

"Hehe, have fun with the questions son." Thomas grinned devilishly as Sophia, Elizabeth and Jason's sisters all started questioning him. Jay and Thomas exchanged eye-rolls and light-hearted laughs.

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"Tea, I require tea," Darjeeling, having just woken up from a deep sleep, scoured her cupboards for her box of teabags. Starting her daily routine as per usual, Darjeeling couldn't get one thing out of her mind: getting on the phone with her boyfriend. She knew he was probably at his grandparents' house right now but she still wanted to talk to him. The yellow-haired commander picked up her phone and tapped in a goodmorning message to Jason.

Dressed in a black, knee-length pleated skirt and a white blouse, the young woman was quickly prepared for the day ahead of her. Most of her plans for the time she will spend between April and September consisted of exploration of the land she adored so much and earning some money. Of course as a foreign exchange student, getting money would be difficult so at the moment her living expenses were being paid by her parents. It was something she wasn't proud of but she didn't have much other choice.

Today, she was going to explore the art galleries of Cambridge and learn more about England and its neighbours. She still had lots to unpack and sort out, but she had the essentials sorted. The tea and the things to make it had priority, obviously. Darjeeling was far too excited to explore, and even yesterday she was out and about seeing the English sights first-hand rather than in pictures or videos.

Her morning seemed to fly by, and Jason had began a conversation with her over text so it wasn't all lonely. She hadn't yet made any friends but she was still keeping in contact with Orange and Assam, Kay had also sent her a message from America. Darjeeling had messaged Maho, asking how Germany was but she had been left on read since ten o'clock last night. Perhaps she messaged her too late, or Maho fell asleep on the phone. Then Darjeeling felt guilty for keeping her up, but then again Maho was already up that late anyway so it wasn't really her fault.

She played it over in her mind for a while, but in the end she brushed it off and got on with her day.

Jason had filled her in on his successful application as an instructor and warned her that he might 'suck at instructing' because he's only had a year of experience in a tank while she's had six.

Little did she know that he's actually had over two decades worth of experience in a tank, and that he was a well-decorated soldier with numerous accomplishments in the field.

Jason had only just found out that he got further than captain, and before he died at the ripe-old age of 91 he was a General in the British Armoured Corps. His jaw dropped too. But instead of saying that he was a general, he spoke of his great-grandfather as if he were someone else.

Darjeeling was excited to learn more about Jason's family and kept asking questions, and when she finally had time to sit down at a café she rang her boyfriend. He was still at his grandparents' house but this gave her a chance to speak with his family. A lot of embarrassment came with it and some cold complaints from Jason, but she was happy to actually hold a conversation with someone other than Jason and her cups of tea.

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_It was maybe around one in the afternoon that we decided to go on a walk. It was refreshing, and I began to realise I truly missed Scotland. It had been around eight years since I stepped foot on Scottish soil, and that is including the strange year I spent in Japan. _

_I missed it, I truly did. It's not something I can forget, but being back here brings back memories. Whether they're my own or not, I don't care._

_Thomas and I strayed from the rest of the family, he said he had something to show me._

_He took me onto a back path towards the loch. It wasn't a long walk, but with the gleaming, shining blue of the loch and the rich, emerald green of the hills I couldn't help but stand in awe. _

_I could remember the highlands being beautiful, but being here, in this place exactly, I couldn't find words to compare._

_Thomas, when reaching the end of a path stood before two cairn stone piles. One taller than the other, yet both seemed as looked after as the other._

_He was looking down at them both, leaning on his walking stick._

_I caught up to him and looked at our surroundings. The ridge we stood on was perched perfectly between the opening of some trees, overlooking the clear blue loch._

_I ripped by eyes from the environment and gazed down at the stones. Two inscriptions were beneath them. _

_The shorter one bore the name '_Katherine Stevenson, loving wife, mother, and daughter. May her song ring out over the highlands forevermore.'

_The taller one kept me from looking, as if it were telling me not to read it. I finally looked at it, only glazing over the cloth that was coloured in my clan's tartan. _

'Jason Montgomery Stevenson. A great man that wouldn't stop giving. A wonderful, loving husband and father. He served his nation, and it served him in return for the sacrifices he made.' _Below it, I saw more writing, but in a different font and emotion._

'Thank you, Dad, for everything. You made me want to be a better person, and even after you're gone I will always love you. We will always love you. You'll be missed. There won't ever be a day where I won't think of you. Never stop being who you are, and we'll see each other again, I promise. Yer wee man, Thomas.'

_._

_I didn't know I was crying until Thomas placed a hand on my shoulder. My son is standing beside me, and I held no memories of the life that this version of myself had. _

_Before Japan, the only family I had was Seamus, Douglas, and Charles. Now, I couldn't even count my family on my fingers. _

_People looked up to me, and now I stood in my own shadow. _

_I want to replace the memories I have with the memories of the man that lies beneath my feet. Is there something he knows at the end of the war that I couldn't? _

_I want to go back to that day and change my path. _

_I want to know more about the life I led and the life I lead._

_I haven't gotten closer to the truth and I fear I never will._

_I don't understand why this happened to me, and how I haven't gone crazy yet._

_I don't know anything, and I can't do anything about it._

_I cry, because it's all I can do._

_I cry,_

_I cry,_

_I cry,_

_I_


	20. 20

_What is it that keeps you up at night?_

_Simply can't sleep?  
_

_Too much energy?_

_Memories?_

_Phobias?_

_Fears?_

_It may be fear that keeps humans alive, it teaches them. Sometimes they learn from it, or they are foolish enough to accept it._

_Fear is something that can define someone. They base their personality off something they are scared of._

_Scared of being rejected? Increased chance of being brash or mean because they don't want to get attached._

_Scared of being replaced? A person would take extra steps to assure their place in someone's life, no matter what._

_Scared of the constant self-depreciation of which oneself presses, always comparing themselves to other people? They won't get far, always focusing on other people's successes rather than their own. They never try to better themselves because they don't see a reason for it, there's someone who can do it better._

"I know that British law says that you're allowed to drink, drive, and smoke a when you're 18 but do you really have to?" Darjeeling sat beside her ragged-looking boyfriend on the steps leading into a complex of flats.

"I smoke because it helps me calm down," taking a long drag from his cigarette, Jason closed his eyes and leaned back.

"Talk to me Jason, what aren't you telling me?" The blonde placed a warm hand onto his left hand.

"Heh, that's a question open to interpretation, right?"

"I'm being serious, I feel like you're keeping something from me," although her tone was calm, Jason could sense some impatience behind Darjeeling's voice.

"What do you expect me to say? Do you expect me to tell you about my whole life, maybe then you'd interpret the cause of my fucked head," Jason tucked his legs closer to his body, his leather boots creaking as they bent.

"Please, Jason, communicate with me. I don't want tonight to end on a bad note," Darjeeling angled her body towards the redhead, keeping her skirt straight on her knees. She lifted a hand to Jason's collar and fixed it, then brushed some dust off his shoulder.

"Tonight started on a bad note when your new friends took me for an idiot. Not everyone is clever, I understand that only the best get into this uni but I didnt half expect these bastards to be so uptight," Jason extended his right arm away from him and tapped the cigarette, watching the burnt paper and tobacco drift down onto the concrete floor.

"That's an unfair description, Mari wasn't that bad," Darjeeling frowned, trying to find some good part of the night.

"Mari was the worst. Her attitude changed when you went to the bathroom. God, she's a bitch," sighing heavily, Jason leaned his head back and stared into the black sky.

"I fear that if you keep an attitude like this then they won't listen to you when you're instructing them about the tanks,"

"Ah, right. Because that's the issue, hm?" Side-glancing the girl beside him, Jason placed the white stick back between his lips.

"Of course it's not the main issue, but if you approach teaching with a prejudicial opinion, neither you nor they will go far," Darjeeling looked at the boy, watching him turn his head away from her and exhaling the smoke. She appreciated that he cared about the smoke blowing near her, but she'd prefer it if he didn't smoke at all.

"Aye, you're not wrong," Jason looked at Darjeeling with a half-raised eyebrow. They looked at each other for a moment, then Jason sighed. "I guess I have got some explaining to do, huh."

"I won't push you to talk to me, but I want you to tell me when you're comfortable," edging closer to him, she had both of her hands on him. One on his hand, and the other on the small of his back.

"I don't know how to explain it, but here we go," Jason, with the cigarette between his forefinger and middle finger, rubbed his forehead. "The milsim match, remember it?" Darjeeling gave him an acknowledging nod. "Right, fuck me. Your opinion might change, of me, and the boys."

"It'll be ok, no matter what I'll still love you," Darjeeling smiled warmly at him, but her words only caused his anxiety to escalate.

"I've killed two people. With my hands, I have ended two lives. Those Kuromorimine boys carried guns on them, and so did we. So did Dmitri and his crew, as well as David and his crew. We all had guns. We killed each other," Jason's hand that was holding the cigarette was strangely still, it wasn't shaking like Darjeeling had expected when talking about this.

"I don't know the other side of the story, and I can't just assume, but did you know that you would get into a gunfight?"

"Yes, no. Maybe. I wanted to assure our own safety by bringing guns," Jason reached the end of his cigarette and dropped it by his boot, moving his heel over it and crushing out the embers.

"If I may, but where did you get the guns from?"

"Home."

"I see..."

"Charles lost his life because I was careless. We ruined an opportunity that could have influenced later tournaments by fuckin' killing each other. Boys have tainted the name of Sensha-dō. I heard that some officials are taking back their compliments on our work because of the bloodshed we brought to their match."

"How did you know you'd need the guns?"

"Erik threatened your life when I was in hospital. Last year when _Ginny _toppled and I was sent to the hospital, he visited me and threatened me to participate in the match. I forged a doctors note so I could take part in that match. I'm sorry, but I didn't want to see you get hurt," Jason stretched his legs out down the steps and leaned back on his hands. Hearing a sniffle beside him, Jason turned his head towards Darjeeling. She wiped her eyes, she was crying.

"I broke rules and killed two boys so I could assure your safety. I knew the threats would stop coming if I killed him, but he ran away. I'm still scared, Darj. I don't want to lose you. I will do anything to make sure you're safe, as long as you let me," softly, Jason placed a hand on her knee.

"Jason, I... I need a minute... I'm sorry," Darjeeling stood up and entered the flats, leaving Jason alone on the steps. The redhead leaned forward and brought his knees up, resting his elbows on them. He closed his eyes for a few seconds before looking into the sky again. Whatever was up there, in the heavens, dealt him a shit hand and it was hardly getting better.

"_Fly me to the moon, and let me sing among those stars, let me see what spring is like, on Jupiter and Mars..."_ Sighing a heavy sigh, Jason hung his head and hummed the rest of one of Sinatra's most famous songs. It was a song he loved, and couldn't get out of his head for the most part. The night was lukewarm, fresh yet without the wind Jason would be without his jacket. The couple had returned from a party that most of the new students had orchestrated to try and get acquainted with each other.

Jason had only agreed to come along because he had nothing better to do and he couldn't miss the gorgeous spectacle that was Darjeeling in a summer dress with her hair in a plait rather than the french braid. It turned out worse than he expected because he didn't fit in at all. Everyone there had received A's and above, yet he stood in that room with two C's and a B. He was proud of those grades, but he couldn't stop comparing himself to the others.

The discomfort grew and he began small arguments with Darjeeling's friends. According to her, they lived on the same floor as her in the student accommodations and they often crossed paths. They were new friends, about a week long but Jason couldn't bring himself to like them. Before it got heated, he had to leave. He didn't know how he was going to cope with being their instructor, even if any of them even took Sensha-dō as an extra-curricular. Whether anyone did or not, he wanted to test out the more modern tanks that became available to the university matches.

Jason recognised the pattern in the school years and the tanks used: secondary used tanks that were inter-war and early Second World War, College's and Sixth Forms used mid to late war tanks and universities used post-war tanks. The brackets for 'post-war' was between 1945 and 1975. This allowed the usage of the numerous Centurion models, Conqueror Mk.2 and the Chieftain models. There were others between the brackets, but not as heavy of a presence as the Centurion and Chieftain.

Having needing to study the weak points of the enemy, Jason spent most of his time between his visit to his family and the start of the semester assessing the armoured vehicles that could be fielded by other nations' universities. He was more concerned about the Russian IS lines and MBT lines. The tanks that followed the design of the T-44 didn't seem like fun opponents. The Leopards that could be fielded by the German universities were something Jason wasn't worried about, he was certain about the power the Chieftains held. He didn't much look forward to the confrontations between his Centurions and the American Pattons, but it would happen eventually.

A pair of arms encircled Jason and softly landed on his shoulders. Darjeeling knelt behind him and leaned into him.

"Hey, I'm sorry if I said something out of line..." he curled his arms in and carefully held onto her wrists.

"Don't apologise, I should be thanking you instead," Darjeeling placed her chin on his right shoulder, then kissed his cheek.

"I just didn't want to entertain the thought of you getting hurt, and if you did, what repercussions would there have been?" Jason tilted his head towards hers.

"I would have been fine, because you were there to protect me. I didn't even know. I suppose you're my guardian angel," a light chuckle escaped her lips and that same, pure smile came back. Jason smiled back at her, and leaned in. They exchanged a kiss, warm and heartfelt, and the world seemed to melt away in that physical exchange. They were happy, if for just now.

"Remind me to carry mints with me when I smoke," Jason pulled away, seeing a light pink flush on Darjeeling's cheeks.

"I will," Darjeeling giggled, tasting the tobacco from his breath.

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A/N: **Short. It sweet, I feel. My mind exploded with ideas at like, 1am (my time, BST, so convert it to yours if you want idk) and I splurged 2k words on the page that somehow formed a chapter. Hope you like this one, it's just a little bit of downtime before I begin the Uni arc. University tank battles lets goooooooooo. I'm so excited to write battles between chieftains and T-54's, it's gonna be so fun.**


	21. 21

**_Munich, Germany, two months prior,_**

"I understand that you want to join the university and I really appreciate your enthusiasm, but we can't allow you to join. I'm sorry, but maybe you should try somewhere else?" A slim woman dressed in a black suit sat behind a large oak desk. On the opposite side of the desk sat upright a young blond boy, a pink scar across his face and an Iron Cross dangling from his neck.

"See, there isn't just 'somewhere' else, I've tried everywhere,"

"I'm sorry Erik, but I can't,"

"There must be something I can do to get in, please. I've got perfect test scores, I'm a brilliant tanksman; if you have me on your team, you will win,"

"That's the thing, Erik, I checked your results from Japan and I'm seeing victory after victory, even against other big schools,"

"Then what's the problem?" Erik leaned forward, leaning his elbows on his legs and eagerly awaiting the excuse the woman could think of.

"The university does not want a repeat of the last match you had in Japan. We know that that match is the reason why you left early and didn't wait for your graduation," the woman picked up some papers and neatly sorted them, "we also understand that it must have made some impact on you, having something like that happen to you."

"It won't happen again, it was a slip-up. As long as I'm fighting under a flag or a title, then my loyalty goes unwavered," sternly making his point, Erik proved his seriousness of the situation.

"One trial run, and if you can't do that then you won't be joining us. If you succeed, then we'll reconsider your application," the woman picked up a pen and wrote something down on a dayplanner laying beside her right elbow.

"Thank you, you won't regret it. I'll prove to you and the other instructors that I am a diligent student and tanker," Erik stood up from the chair and puffed out the ski cap he held in his hands.

"Erik?" The woman began, causing the blond boy to turn his attention to her, "we look forward to seeing the results of your aptitude test." She placed her pen down straight, lined up with the side of the planner. A large smile grew on his face, his pride steadily returning. Erik nodded, then promptly left the room. He closed the door behind him as he left, and the woman leaned back in her chair. She looked over her planner, reading some of the dates. She flipped some pages, reading events for the first semester.

Just like the Japanese schools, carriers will be set out to represent the universities. With the increased budget of the universities the capabilities were much higher, but the carriers would only be used for transportation rather than holding an entire town and university. Most of them would still have classrooms made while the students are going from point A to B, this would be so they wouldn't be behind on studies.

In her planner, the woman saw the first practice match against another German university, then after that they'd have a battle against a French university. This was just for the first semester, and nothing else had been planned as of yet. She, however, knew that with having the boy known as 'Erik Von Feuerstein' as a student in her university would be good for her victories, she felt it could end violently in some way or another.

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**_Cambridge, England, same time,_**

One of the hottest days of the year happened to be on the day of moving for Jason. The sweltering heat within the cabin of the truck brought Jason and his father to produce buckets of sweat, even with the fan on. Both of them wanted to make sure this was a one-way trip, so Jay borrowed a van from his workplace to transport all of his son's belongings.

"So, Cambridge, huh?" The attempt to start a conversation was made so they could try and forget the humidity, and Jay started it off with a starter that Jason happened to get used to recently.

"Aye, nae learnin' there, jus' teaching the students about tankery," Jason swiped his brow, a glistening film of sweat lined his fingertips.

"Ah, right. Where is it that yer living at then? If it's no' student accommodations then are you rentin' somewhere?" Jay talked sideways out of his mouth, focusing on the road ahead of him.

"Mm, yeah, some guy rented out a flat he owns, south Cambridge. It was originally a flat openin' fer students 'cause the last one jus' left, but I managed to get the room. Since I'm getting paid fer instructin' at Cambridge, I can afford the rent and he didn't mind me going fer it,"

"Sounds like you thought it through a lot,"

"Had tae, else I wouldnae found a decent place,"

"I'm impressed that you're taking this so seriously, proud o' ye,"

"Cheers, Dad," Jason gave his father a half smile and looked out the passenger window. The cabin became awkwardly silent, the conversation had clearly ended then. Getting to about a half-hours drive from Cambridge, Jay seemed to loosen up a bit like he was finally able to rest soon. The drive was long, almost 6 and a half hours long. Jason knew how long the drive was and offered to drive down so his dad wasn't as tired going back up, but he was stubborn and Jason was banished to the passengers seat.

"The kids you'll be teaching, they're the same age as you?"

"Yeah, or younger, or older, it's weird but the University saw my history with tank driving and commanding when I applied and knew of my media presence within Japan, so they happily took me on. Some veteran commanders from the Royal Armoured Corps are instructors too. There were a few commonwealth veterans too, amazing amounts of awards and medals. All of them were high ranks and had loads of medals. I was only person below the age of forty," Jason let out a small laugh, and his father chuckled along with him.

"Well, with how passionate you are of tankery and following your great-grandfathers footsteps, you'll go far in the world you're going into, I'm sure of it," Jay patted his son's knee and shot him a smile of how proud he was. It was a beaming smile, and Jason felt it.

"Thanks Dad, I won't let you down, I'll try my best for the family,"

"And fer yerself, son, not just fer the family," Jay raised his voice a little, not to intimidate or scare, but because Jason's mind was too family-oriented. Jason grimaced apologetically, nodding slowly.

"Of course, but I like to think I'm doing this for the name I fight under and my family. I'm not doing it just for myself, like some people I know..." Jason scratched the top of his head, his hand ruffling his short ginger locks even more than they already were. Jay tapped the GPS he was using, catching Jason's attention to it.

"We're almost there, should be down that road there," Jay pointed at a road that continued off to the right from a roundabout. They were stuck behind traffic and a few red stop lights. The Stevenson's were patiently waiting for the English traffic to speed up, but there was no hope in sight. Feeling like minutes had passed, the traffic moved and the van could follow the last couple of minutes of directions.

When they reached the block of flats, they were greeted by black steel fences that shone in the summer sun. The building itself was rather grand and stood at about six stories, made of red brick - proving the wealth that it held within. The car park had several expensive looking vehicles, ranging from BMW's to a single Bentley to a couple Range Rovers. Jason didn't take much time to note down all of them, but there were a few less expensive cars, most likely owned by students that lived there. The short steps that led up to the black doors of the building were a clean white, unsoiled by muddy shoes and boots and it perfectly contrasted the black fences, gate, and door of the premises.

The whole area that they were in looked as if it were cleaned daily, maybe even bi-daily. Jay found a spot near the entrance of the building, making sure to carefully watch where he was going when parking in fear of scraping a fancy car. Once he pulled up the parking brake, the two men unclipped their seatbelts and exited the vehicle. It was now time to unload Jason's stuff. Jay secretly hoped there was a lift available if the flat wasn't on the ground or first floor.

Jason pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialled the owner of the flat he was renting, just to let him know that he had arrived. Jay and Jason waited for the guy to appear, and a few minutes later someone opened the door to the building. A black-haired man dressed in brown chinos and a blue shirt walked down the steps. After setting his eyes on the red headed father and son, he grinned and waved his arm to them. They waved their hands in response.

"Ah, you must be Jason!" He gleefully exclaimed, "I'm Harry, welcome to Cambridge," the man extended his hand out to offer a handshake with a wide smile on his face. Jason noticed the wrinkles at his eyes and mouth, only just recognising the age of this man. Harry stood just an inch or two below Jason, which to any on-looker passing by would find humorous. Jay was a few inches taller than Jason, and considering that Jason is six foot, is slightly intimidating. Jason shook his hand, and then Harry shook Jay's hand. "Perfect timing, too, I just finished sorting stuff out upstairs so here you go, it's room 3B, third floor," Harry fished a set of keys out of his pocket and handed them to the younger man.

"Thank you for letting me rent your flat Harry, it's greatly appreciated,"

"Oh, no problems, I've rented that place out for about fifteen years to students who've come here. Had to kick one out though, he partied too hard and I got some noise complaints. There are rules, and I did send them to you via email, have you read them?" Harry stuffed his hands into his pockets, giving off an extremely relaxed vibe.

"Aye, I printed them off too,"

"Excellent, then I shan't remind you of them," Harry nodded to the two men, and his clear, precise speech didn't reek of posh twattiness that Jay expected. "Cheerio, lads. I'll check on you next week, I'll email you ok? And if you have any concerns, you have my contact info."

"Alright, thanks again, Harry."

"No problem, ta-ta now!" Harry waved the two goodbye and pulled out another set of keys. He pressed a button and a black BMW on the other end of the car park unlocked. Jason and Jay waved him off, then began unloading the van. Thankfully there wasn't much of Jason's own belongings, but there were boxes of furniture that were recently bought from a non-descript Swedish home store nearby.

The next hour or so was spent hauling long boxes around a staircase and moving smaller boxes up and down the lift. Once everything had been moved and a couple of coffees were consumed, it was time for Jay to go back home.

"Thanks Dad, I'll come back up in August for a weekend,"

"Your mother would prefer every weekend," Jay chuckled to himself as he opened the driver side door to the van. Jason grimaced, picturing himself spending hundreds of pounds just to go up and down the A1 every weekend. "Hey, Jason, stay safe alright? I don't want any more hospital notes to come through the post ok? It drives your mum up the wall, and I don't want a crazy lady rambling to herself again." Jay paused as he climbed in and started the ignition, "make us proud, Jason, I know you will. We'll support you every step of the way."

"I know you will, I appreciate that. I'll try my hardest, thank you again for helping me with moving,"

"Aye, well, it's good to see my wee man becoming a big man, getting far in the world. I'll call you when I get home ok?"

"Alright Dad, see you later," Jason stepped back from the van so Jay could close the door. His father gave him a quick salute and drove the van out of the car park. Jason watched the van leave, and the area went quiet. Only the distant traffic could be heard and the small chirps of birds in nearby trees. The red-headed boy twirled the keys around his right index finger as he went back inside. The lobby was small and only contained a small grey bin, the doors to the lift, and a dozen mailboxes. _Old-fashioned_, Jason thought, thinking about how Victorian-esque the building - and the area itself - looked. It was expected, as it was the city of Cambridge after all.

Jason, tired from the almost seven hour journey and all the hauling, was ready to hit the hay. He didn't consider the fact that there wasn't a bed waiting for him in his flat, nor a sleeping bag or a sofa he could instead.

"Bastard," Jason muttered under his breath, glaring at the large cardboard box that contained the bed he picked out himself. The mattress lay beside it, still wrapped in the plastic covering. Saying buggar to building the bed for now, Jason grabbed a utility knife off another box and sliced the plastic covering down the middle. He wasn't taking any shit right now, he was too tired for meticulously unwrapping the mattress the intended way. He pulled the plastic away and pulled the mattress over so it was laying flat on the floor.

The boots were quickly pulled off and the t-shirt was removed. Jason flopped onto the mattress and literally sunk into it. It was heaven. Or, close enough. Heaven was Darjeeling's thi- warm loving arms. The Scot fidgeted on the mattress and grabbed his phone, unlocking it and going onto Darjeeling's contact. He dialled her number and waited for her to pick up. The phone rang a couple of times before the girlfriend picked up.

"_Hello Jason, are you all settled in now?_" Her voice was music to his ears, and he felt even closer to falling asleep. It was dangerously soothing to hear her words through the phone.

"Mm, aye. Just got intae bed actually,"

_"Bed? It's four in the afternoon? You must have worked quite hard, and I bet this heat didn't help either?"_

"Nope, I'm dying over here," a smile spread on Jason's lips as he heard a light giggle come from the receiver.

"_I bet you are, but please don't. How far away are you? I could come over and say hello,"_

"Well, it's been two months since I last saw you so I doubt I'd say no. It's bloody hot though, you alright walking about in this heat?"

"_Of course, this isn't as bad as some summers in Japan though. Summers in Japan average a few Celsius higher than Britain._"

"That must suck," Jason sat up on his mattress, "if you are coming over could you buy me a- actually, I'll buy them myself tomorrow,"

"_Hm? What is it?_"

"I was gonna ask you if you could buy me some ciders on your way here but I could get them myself when I sort out my fridge-freezer tomorrow."

"_It's alright, I'm sure tonight calls for a welcoming celebration doesn't it?"_

"Are you sure? I wouldn't want you to force yourself to buy something like that."

"_Don't be silly, send me your address and I'll be over soon,"_

"I'll pop the kettle on too, shall I?"

_"That'll be perfect, thank you. Do you have my tea already?"_

"Aye, went for a shop before we left. Dad was pissing about so I got some time to go shopping."

"_Thank you, and I didn't even need to bring my own. I love you, Jason."_

_"_I love you too, Darj."

_"Could you send me the address please? I'll just get ready and then I'll come over."_

"Alright, no problem," Jason pulled a ripped sheet of paper off a box and texted Darjeeling the address of his flat, "there, take your time because I've still got a lot of stuff to unpack and unbox, for example the kettle and the mugs."

"_I can help you with that, it's no problem._"

"You sure?"

"_Of course."_

"Thank you, I'll need to repay you somehow."

"_How about hugs and kisses? And tea, obviously."_

"I'm perfectly fine with that, no problem."

"_Splendid, I'll see you later Teddy-bear."_

"Hah, see you later Sweetheart. Love you."

"_Love you too, bye."_

"Bye."

Darjeeling ended the call, and a permanent smile was etched onto Jason's face. He was inarguably happy, and was looking forward to seeing his gorgeous blonde girlfriend for the first time in two months. But before he could welcome her into his new home, he had to start with the unpacking and unboxing.

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Half an hour passed and Jason jumped at the sound of his doorbell. He pulled a cloth out of his pocket and wiped some of his sweat off his body, an attempt made in vain as the sweat was ready to return in buckets. Jason left his kitchen and walked to his hallway, opened the door, and was greeted with the cutest angel anyone could set their eyes on.

Dressed in a white dress that stopped just at the knees, showing off her long and smooth legs as well as her slender arms. Her hair was pinned up in her trademark french braid, perfected and no straying hair could be seen. On her left shoulder was a brown faux-leather handbag and in her hands in front of her was a shopping bag filled with all sorts of 'goodies'.

"Gorgeous..." was the only thing that Jason could utter, and it brought a cute expression to her face.

"Shush you," Darjeeling gushed, averting her eyes slightly.

"Come in, please. I managed to get the fan working," Jason widened the door and stepped to the side, letting Darjeeling walk in. She eyed the place like it was a palace, looking high and low, inspecting the flat that Jason had picked out.

"I resisted the urge to hug you because I probably smell right now, the heat can be cruel sometimes," Darjeeling let Jason lead her into the living room - or what Jason currently called the 'empty-box room'.

"Don't care, come here or I'll forever regret it," Jason stood in the middle of the room with his arms outstretched, physically ready for an uncomfortably hot hug. Darjeeling smiled and put down her bags, then hurriedly embraced her boyfriend.

"Did you put that aftershave on before I arrived?" Their arms twisted around each other, her head neatly fit the space under his chin and he now had somewhere to rest his chin.

"Maybe, maybe not, who knows," Jason shrugged, half-glad she noticed and half upset that she pointed it out.

"It smells nice," she nuzzled her head a little, feeling the heat coming from his body through the thin fabric of her dress as if she was pressed against a soft radiator.

"Thank you, you smell nice too," his nose was almost in her hair, which let him sniff the relaxing aroma of the shampoo and conditioner that she used.

"Liar, you're just being nice," she pinched his side softly, her smile only widening as his did too.

"My aftershave is being nice, I'm just stating facts," Jason began to gently sway their bodies, shifting his weight from leg to leg.

"Mhm, if you say so,"

"I do,"

They stood there for a little while longer, basking in the heartwarming embrace that they both undeniably missed. It was only until the heat finally became unbearable that they had to detach from each other.

"I'll pop the kettle on, the only chair I have so far is my desk chair and that camping chair. Don't ask me why I have it, I don't know the answer," Jason stepped out of the room for a second and then returned with a black chair on wheels. He rolled it over to Darjeeling and offered it to her with a bow and a flourish, and she gratefully accepted it with her own bow. If someone saw this, they'd either laugh or believe Darjeeling was royalty. In Jason's mind, it might as well have been the latter.

The tea was started and the first bottle of cider was cracked open. The couple start unboxing things together, sharing complaints about the heat every so often. Jason questioned the fact she was drinking tea in this heat, then realised she was a hardier person than he was. She is a woman of resolve and won't drink anything that isn't typically British. The only thing other than tea that came to her mind was English ale and water. Jason added that ale isn't the only typically British alcohol, then realised that her 'I don't drink alcohol' face was on so he dropped listing all the drinks he could think of.

Hours passed, and the flat was looking a lot more homely than it was earlier. The couple that made it so, were now shattered and were prepared for bed. It was about nine o'clock at night, they didn't really know but it felt late. The bed frame hadn't yet been made, but the mattress had a cover and a duvet on it, and it could fit two people. 'Perfect!' They said, but didn't think about how the duvet, even if it was thin as a blanket, wasn't going to be used because of the blistering heat.

In the dying sun, the fake breeze formed by the fan, and the semi-completion of homemaking, the couple changed into their sleepwear and retired for the day. Darjeeling didn't complain about staying over for the night, it was her idea in the first place for her to sleep over. They are adults, so there's nothing wrong with it. Nothing would have been done since it was too hot to take part in such 'activities', so adult things weren't even considered.

Dressed in only a pair of shorts, Jason, once again, flopped onto his mattress. Darjeeling sat beside him, letting her hair down then tying it into a loose bun. She was dressed in one of Jason's t-shirts, a blue that was close to the same pigment as the Scottish blue. The pair laid down, exhausted by the hot day, but their spirits weren't brought down by it, instead they were over-filled with joy as they finally got to spend some time together after being separated for so long.

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**A/N: I feel like this chapter was necessary, I confused myself with the sudden time jump when I re-read the last chapter and realised a chapter that explained it a little bit was needed. Hope this clears stuff up a bit, also I wanted to add some much-needed cute shit between Darjeeling and Jason since it had been a while since we got some cute shit. Expect the next chapter kinda soon as well, I take back my previous statement in chapter 17 (or 18, I can't remember) about starting a new fic that was focused on their uni life. It would be much easier to just continue it on here.**

**P.S. Expect the next chapter to be kinda tense? It's gonna be epic.**

**Please leave a review! They're really appreciated and I love to read them! I always get excited when I see the review notifs :)**

**Thanks for reading this far, peace out dudes (and dudettes)**

**Kekled~**


	22. 22

**It's a long one, sorry boys and girls (I'm not sorry, it was really fun to write so it was worth it).**

**Please leave reviews! They help a lot and I love reading and replying to them, they make me happy :)**

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** First Friday of the Semester and the First Introduction to Tankery in the United Kingdom,**

All the students that had applied to the tankery club were lined up in pre-made crews. There were twenty-eight crews of four and eight crews of three. The students stood in front of a recently established pair of tank sheds made specifically for Cambridge University. Behind the hangars was about 6000~ acres of land that the university bought for the training of their crews. The size of the training grounds was incomparable to Bovington's 10,000~ acres, but it was still an extremely large field for them to train.

Every student stood in identical khaki oversuits, mirroring British tank crew uniform. Some of the 'posher' students complained about the cheapness of the fabric and how it made them look like a 'poor person'.

Darjeeling couldn't hold in the grimace when she heard some of the complaints. Her crew was the first at the front left of the columns, and the first few crews in the front row had girls that Darjeeling recognised. A couple of them were also girls from St Glorianas, Darjeeling quickly made a mental note to make friends with them. Darjeeling was in a crew of two other girls and a boy, wanting to make friends with all of them quickly so they wouldn't disregard her orders. What she deduced was that the people at the front of the crews were most likely the commanders, seeing that herself and a few other ex-Gloriana students stood at the front of a few of the crews.

Peering behind her, Darjeeling looked at her crew. The girl directly behind her was a little bit taller than her, brown-hair tied into a neat plait and wore a pair of black round glasses. She seemed incredibly studious, and shy. The girl averted her eyes when Darjeeling looked at her.

"Hello, I don't think we've met yet. My name is Darjeeling," Darjeeling put on a smile, just so she could assure the girl she was friendly. Darjeeling wanted to make sure that she was always on good terms with her crew.

"G-Grace, my name is Grace..." the brunette smiled back at the blonde, shifting her posture slightly to the right.

"Have you ever been around tanks before?" Darjeeling stood side-on to the girl, keeping an eye on the gravel road that led towards the front gate. She felt like the tanks they would be using would show up any time soon.

"N-No, this is... my first time. It does seem quite exhilarating though, doesn't it?" A sudden excitement showed up on Grace's face, her shyness temporarily disappearing.

"It does, I'm excited to see the tanks we'll be fielding for our matches. Back in Japan, I was the captain of my school's tankery club so this is a welcome change of pace for me. It was rather fun, though."

"Oh? That's amazing, you must be quite good then,"

"Thank you, but it was coordination, communication and the teamwork of the other club members that made it a good team, I was just giving orders around,"

"Of course, but a good leader helps the cohesion of the people. If a leader proves they can lead by example, and they are followed, then they are a good leader. Orders that are logically sane are the ones that people follow, too,"

"Indeed, to lead by example and show my underclassmen the highest expectations of our school I always wanted to take a steady approach to tank tactics. We also won our first tournament last year, so I was quite happy to leave my school on such a good note," giving Grace a final smile, she turned slightly on her heel.

"You're the captain of St Gloriana's college aren't you? Nice work with the tourney last year, quite impressive display," a boy from another crew asked her, his hands stuffed into his oversuit pockets. His brown hair was slicked back, shiny with how much product went into it.

"Yes, I am. Thank you, but it was a joint effort with everyone in St Gloriana. I hope we can work well together, during our training and our matches," Darjeeling gave him a slight bow, a smile on her face. She thought that her presence in Japan as St Gloriana's captain was known only in Japan, she didn't think that the captains of the schools were known to the rest of the world. The boy opened his mouth to say something again, but suddenly the large steel fence at the end of the gravel road creaked open. Every student turned their heads toward the gate, silent, awaiting the vehicles that were to arrive.

The first tank to show itself was a low-profile, khaki-painted main battle tank. The front of it was covered in a light compact netting, the barrel was coated in some fabric similar in colour to the tanks hull. As it entered the compound, it slowed down. After it entered, more of the same tank followed it, with only a few small details changed about it. Every tank that entered was different. Smaller tanks and larger tanks, then obscurely shaped ones entered near the end.

The first tank stopped in front of the centre of the crews. It was most likely going to be the captain's tank. The next vehicles circled around the back of all of the students, lining up neatly on the gravel like it had been rehearsed to perfection. All of them seemed intimidating, their figures imposing and the cannons they bore were long and proved the strong fighting force that was expected of British combat vehicles.

The commander's hatch on the leading tank popped open, and it was a familiar face that appeared.

Jason pulled himself up through the cupola and stared at the students in front of him. He glanced over all of their faces, not expecting much out of the members he would have to train alongside the other instructors. There were only three other instructors, and they were the rest of the crew to Jason's tank.

The red-headed instructor leaned down into the vehicle and pressed a few buttons. After a moment, a microphone receiver was pulled to his mouth.

"Welcome to the Cambridge Tankery Training Grounds," he began, his accent was surprisingly clear when he spoke through the speakers. "I am Instructor Montgomery, the leading instructor to this club," using his middle name rather than his first, Jason felt he could assert his 'Captain of a Battalion' personality he had before he was taken to Japan. He felt 'Montgomery' could fit him, it sounded more impressive than 'Jason'. He was looking forward to finally going all-out on these students and making them the best team in the world.

"Here, at these grounds, your physical strength, your courage, your leadership, and most importantly of all, your teamwork, will all be put to the test," Jason leaned out of the hatch. His uniform was more visible now, and it was identical to the captain's uniform he wore over a year ago. His uniform was a dark khaki, separated pieces rather than an oversuit. A light brown belt was just below his stomach, the brass clip had been polished, and his black beret was fixed professionally atop his head, adorning the silver cap badge of the Royal Armoured Corps.

Jason originally liked to make appearances when dealing with new tank crews in the war, he liked to make a good impression on them so they would follow his lead. To Jason, these students were simply just new recruits. He couldn't treat the Japanese students who he knew played Sensha-do the same as new recruits, but they would have to go through the same training. He made sure that every ex-St Gloriana student was a commander to the students that knew nothing about the sport.

"Your crews have been pre-made, but it could change if crews don't get along or their results in training increase in quality. The harder you work, the better you fight, the more we win. It's simple. Every vehicle behind you is different. Every vehicle has its own designation, it's own name, it's own personality. Treat your vehicle like it is a living breathing thing. Look after it, because if you don't, it will fail you," Jason got out of the cupola and stood on top of the turret. The rubber coil that connected the microphone to the loudspeaker stretched and seemed near its end. "If you don't think that this club is for you after today, that's fine by me. That means fewer people to drag behind the rest," some of the students started fidgeting, the air had suddenly become more serious.

"After today, as part of club training you will not only learn about your vehicle and the ones you fight alongside, but you will also learn about the enemies you will face. You will learn about the Russian T-72, the German Leopard A1A1, the American M60A3 Patton. There's a whole arsenal out there that you will have to get used to. Today, you will learn how to use the best tanks from the best nation in the world. The next two weeks will be training; crew coordination, team communication, convoy and formations, as well as going to the range and testing the gunner's skills. The accuracy of the gunner, driving of the driver, loading speed of the loader and the leadership of the commander are all imperative to make a good crew." Jason took a breath, then started again.

"Club is three days a week, Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Tournaments will take place over weekends and breaks." Jason's eyes scanned over every student, making sure everyone was listening to him. They were. They seemed captured by the boy their same age who knew so much more than them. He liked this fact, that he knew so much more about tankery than everyone in the compound.

"This vehicle," he tapped the roof of the turret he stood on with his boot, "is the Chieftain Mark 7. Sadly, we couldn't get our hands on the latest model, the Mark 13, because of the years bracket, which is a shame because it can kick ass. This is one of the best vehicles you will come across on the field. The place of the apex predator does not exist on these fields. The apex predator is defined by how well a crew coordinates. If a crew has perfect coordination, it is the deadliest tank on the field. That is what I aspire for all of you, that you all become the apex predator. This team will be the best in the world, and I will make sure of that," Jason paused, then looked at his wristwatch. "Time to get going, training begins immediately after you have been assigned to your vehicles. I will leave that to my associates."

The other three instructors left the Chieftain Jason stood on, taking out clipboards and reading off crews. Seven crews of four and two crews of three were assigned to each instructor. These were the companies, Arthur, Lancelot, Gawain, and Percival. Named after the Knights of the Round Table, the companies had an assigned insignia that specified which vehicle belonged to them. A crown for Arthur, a longbow for Lancelot, a sword for Gawain and a shield for Percival.

Jason is the instructor for Arthur, teaching the crew of a single Conqueror, six Chieftains of various models and two Scimitar ARVs. The tank that was to be designated as the flag tank was the Conqueror, currently having additional spaced armour being added to the front of the turret and upper glacis.

Angie, a middle-aged woman with short brown hair, is the instructor for Lancelot, teaching three Chieftains, two Conways, one Sho't Kal Dalet, one Centurion Mk.5 AVRE, and two Scorpion ARVs. This company was designated as the hard-hitting company, with the shell types of the Conways and the Centurion having high masses of TNT filler within them.

The last two companies, instructed by two men in their fifties; Hank and John, were Gawain and Percival respectively. Their companies consisted of seven Chieftains each and two Scimitar ARVs each. The two companies were simply just wing companies, planned to be used as quick-response.

Darjeeling and her crew were designated to the Conqueror, set aside specifically to show it was the flag tank. Darjeeling automatically took the position of commander, and none of her crew argued with this fact. What was surprising to the crew, and to the rest of the students, was that there was no clear captain of the club.

"Do you think Instructor Montgomery will elect a captain after today's session?" The only boy in Darjeeling's crew sat at the gunner's position, adjusting the height of the chair and the optics to suit him. He was an average height boy in terms of average British height, but he was a few inches taller than Darjeeling. He had short black hair that was styled as a parting in the middle. He kind of resembled that one guy called Levi in a popular anime.

"Maybe, he might see which crew earns the highest score at the end of the two weeks and then select one." She decided to play along with the name he gave himself, it did suit him, she thought. "Choosing a captain based on the fact that practicing tankery has never been done outside of Japan could prove to be difficult, they can't exactly automatically choose an ex-tankery student simply because they know what they're doing. Something like that would seem unfair - to me, in any case. But it doesn't matter what I think. The instructors' decision is final and I suppose we can voice our opinions after they, the captain-to-be, has been elected," Darjeeling sat straight in the commander's seat, her knees together and her palms flat on them. She looked professional in the way she sat, and it proved to her crew that she wasn't joking about, let alone her knowledge on the matter at hand.

The turret crew, the boy and the girl that hadn't yet been introduced, stared at her in surprise and awe.

"For someone who came from Japan, your accent is amazing. So eloquent," the girl that took the loader's position was a little bit taller than Darjeeling, heavily made-up and wore her brown hair in a high ponytail. She leaned into the turret, then banged her head on the intercom system. "Ow," she winced, quickly clutching the back of her head.

"You alright?" Asked the boy, leaning back behind the cannon breech.

"Yeah, just banged my head,"

"I must warn you all, the engine and the gun will be loud. And don't take it lightly, it's much louder than a car backfiring or a gun firing," Darjeeling looked at her loader and gunner, they nodded slowly.

"I'm Matt, by the way. Nice to meet you," the black-haired boy protruded a hand towards Darjeeling, offering a handshake. The turret space was cramped, but somehow he managed to twist his torso to shake her hand. She smiled, leaned forward and shook his hand.

"Likewise, my name is Darjeeling," the handshake continued for a little too long, becoming slightly awkward before Darjeeling pulled her hand away.

"I'm Emilia, hi, you sound like a cool person and I want to be your friend," Emilia smiled wide at her new commander.

"I-I'm Grace, by the way..." Grace had taken the drivers seat, seeing as she had received her driving license almost two years prior to this moment she though it was a good idea.

"Hi Grace," Matt and Emilia greeted the shy girl at the same time, receiving a meek wave of her hand in response.

"I suggest we wear the personal radios, they go around our necks and allow us to communicate between each other. Mine should allow me to communicate with the rest of our company as well," Darjeeling reached to a box beside the radio, then pulled out four radios, one slightly larger than the others. She passed them to the rest of the crew, then fixed hers around her neck. Darjeeling then fiddled with the radio to the tank with Emilia watching closely to everything she was doing.

Suddenly, the radio crackled and Jason's voice came through. Darjeeling sat back, realising that his voice came through despite her messing of the dials.

_"All crews of Arthur company, there should be personal radios inside of your vehicles. They go around your neck. If there aren't enough for your whole crew, then look for it somewhere else in your tank because there are definitely the right amount in each vehicle. I won't listen to any complaints."_

"Seems we got that sorted then," Matt leaned his elbow on the horizontal turret drive, resting his head on his hand.

"_All drivers, I would like you to follow the Conqueror, the big tank with the red flag on the back of it. We will start at the firing range today."_

"W-We're the leading vehicle b-but I don't know how t-to drive this yet...wait, there's a manual," the shy girl went through a series of button pushing and lever pulling, eventually she got to the final step and the engine spluttered to life. The whole vehicle began to vibrate. The initial startup of the engine was loud, louder than any souped-up muscle cars or hyper cars the students had come across.

"You'll be ok Grace, just follow the manual and you'll be ok-" Darjeeling spoke reassuring words to the driver, but was rudely interrupted by the loader standing up out of the hatch. Matt, and then Darjeeling followed suit. They saw the rest of the company trying to start up their own vehicles and chatting amongst themselves.

"Am I following Instructor Montgomery?" Grace exclaimed, trying to talk louder than the cacophonous roars of the rest of the engines starting up.

"I would think so," Darjeeling talked through her throat mic while she spoke to Grace, seeing that it was easier than raising her voice. Just a moment later, an armoured personnel carrier painted in a dark green, brown and black camouflage drove in front of the Conqueror. Jason sat in the drivers seat, his head and shoulders above the hatch. He waved to Grace, who quickly caught on and put the behemoth of a tank into gear. Jason's APC kept a steady speed of 5 miles per hour at the beginning, allowing the drivers of each vehicle get used to basic driving, getting used to pushing and pulling the tillers.

Arguably, the Conqueror had the most complex start-up of all the vehicles, having to follow so many steps just to start the engine, even from a warm start. It wasn't easy to drive, either. Grace struggled even on a straight path, feeling the awkwardness of the tillers and fighting with the weight of the vehicle itself.

Arthur Company took a dirt road down the left side of the tank sheds, passing through some trees. A mound of dirt obscured their view into the fields that were their training grounds. The road took them to the other end, where a shooting range was available. Thankfully, there were ten slots for vehicles to park and begin their training.

Jason lead the Conqueror to the furthest slot, with six Chieftains lining up into the next slots. The two Scimitars sat at the end, the crews wondering how accurately they could fire their 30mm autocannons for the longest ranges.

Matt looked through the optics to the 120mm cannon, reading both range scales for the three ammo types: APDS, HESH, and smoke. Once again, Jason's voice came through the radios again.

"_All loaders, I would like to let you know that you have an equally important job to the rest of the crew. Loading the gun can be tricky. The lack of space in the turret leads to awkward loading. Your shells are heavy. Weighing around 80 pounds each, your shell casings are the trickiest to move. The shell heads are what hit the targets, you must be able to tell the difference, and if you can't you are blind or ignorant. Loaders, I want you all to load Armour Piercing into your breaches. Once you've loaded, the commander must stand in their cupola."_

Emilia lowered herself into the turret and looked for the 'armour piercing' shells. Darjeeling and Matt lowered themselves too, then watched Emilia fuddle with the shells. Grabbing the sabot head, Grace turned it around in her hands and inspected it. Shrugging, she turned towards the breach and looked for the opening to put it in.

"There's a lever to the left of the breech, there, where you can open and close it," Darjeeling pointed to a small lever attached to the left side of the breach.

"Ah, glad that someone knows what they're doing," Emilia chuckled to herself, opening the breach and pushing the shell head in. Afterwards, she turned around and bent down to pick up the charge. Strange noises came from her, straining noises like she was really struggling to pick up the charge. After a few seconds of weird noises, she had turned around with the charge cradled in her arms and lifted it into the breach. She pushed the shell into the breach and closed it.

"I'll let the instructor know we're ready to fire," Darjeeling stood up, then looked at her uniformed boyfriend. They locked gazes and he grinned at her. The blonde commander smiled and rolled her eyes, then looked down the range. After half a minute of waiting, every commander was standing in their cupolas and awaited Jason's next order.

"_Gunners, I want you to aim at the closest target. They should be the burnt out vehicles at 100 metres. Once you've gotten your sights-"_

One of the Chieftains fired early. The shell missed the target and bore a hole through the mound behind it. Most of the commanders had their hands covering their ears, except for Darjeeling and the girl commander in the Chieftain beside her.

"_Wha' on God's Green Earth do ya think yer doin'? I didnae give the order to fire, did I? I guess you want to stay behind after this and clean the tanks?" _Jason's accent esacalated, getting thicker as he got annoyed.

"I'm sorry!" A girl's voice echoed through the range, "It was an accident!"

"_Accidents get yer tank oot tha game early. Keep control of tha' trigger finger, would'ja?"_

"Yes, Instructor!"

"_Get yer bloody gun loaded. We're waitin' on you now."_

A quarter of a minute passed and the commander to the early-firing Chieftain raised his hand. Jason sighed and spoke into his mic again.

"_Alright, try number two. All gunners aim yer guns at the first target. Fire!"_

Nine guns exploded, the Conqueror rocked back ever so slightly. The Scimitars fired a series of shots, seeing as only one 30mm didn't seem like enough. The process of reloading, adjusting sights, and repeating went on for an hour. Targets changing, ranges scaling and moving objects being introduced. Coordination between gunner and loader was required, and the leading of every commander to change targets. For the first time at the range, Jason thought it went surprisingly well - despite the slight slip-up.

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"Ugh, I'm shattered..."

"You sat in an APC drinking coffee for most of the session, what was so tiring?"

Jason laid down on top of Darjeeling's bed, his legs dangling off the end. Returning from the first training session, the couple wanted to start their weekend together and so Darjeeling invited Jason to her room. The blonde commander removed her jacket and boots then sat beside her redheaded instructor.

"Teaching you guys..." he groaned, with fake annoyance in his voice. He sat up and pulled himself further onto the bed, sitting in the middle.

"My crew didn't do terribly, unlike Callum's crew. Despite the unnecessarily heavy vehicle you bestowed upon us, we did well for fresh tankers."

"Well, not all of you were fresh tankers. One of you is an expectionally brilliant commander that has the potential to be a commander in the pro-league."

"You must be joking. Me? In the pro-league? Please." Darjeeling had her back to him as she let her hair down, carefully pulling her fingers through the braid.

"Why not? You're amazing. Your skills will be seen during university matches and recruiters will go for you. Plus, you already have the best instructor in all the lands," smirking, Jason wrapped his arms around Darjeeling's waist, resting his chin on her shoulder.

"Mm, he's not half bad," she smiled at him, then kissed him softly.

"Not half bad?" He chuckled slightly, then returned the kiss. Darjeeling placed a finger on his lips, keeping him quiet.

"Just... shh," she moved her finger and placed her palm on his cheek, deepening the kiss. She wrapped her arms around him and pushed him down, laying half beside him with her left leg between his. Darjeeling paused, then reached to her bedside table. She turned off the light and plunged themselves into a darkened room. Resuming their... 'activity', the couple embraced each other.

They had a busy, and heated night ahead of them. It was a good thing it was the weekend the next day.

]

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**_Two weeks later, Cambridge Training Grounds,_**

"Monty, you alright? You seem tired," Angie, the middle-aged instructor to Lancelot Company placed a firm hand on the Scots' shoulder. Jason rubbed his temples, then wiped his face with his palm.

"Aye, all good. Let's get goin'. The companies aren't gontae sort themselves out are they?" Jason pulled his black beret onto his head and pushed his curly orange hair underneath the band, at least making it look like he was ready for the club's session for today. What was planned for the club members was a surprise war between Arthur and Gawain Company versus Lancelot and Percival Company, and Jason looked forward to the results of the mock battle.

All of the instructors left the small office within one of the tank sheds, dispersing to talk to each of their Companies. Jason didn't have to go far as this shed belonged to Arthur Company, with the tall watchtower installed to watch the tests just next door.

"Alright, Arthurians, get intae yer tanks and lets get goin'. We've got something special for all of you today," clapping his hands and talking loudly enough so every crew member could hear him, Jason walked between the idle rows of tanks that sat in the shed. Every crew quickly got into their vehicles, firing up the engines as quickly as they could. The redheaded instructor walked over to the Conqueror and climbed aboard, receiving a confused look from Grace. He climbed up onto the turret and sat on top of it.

"Good afternoon, Instructor Montgomery," Darjeeling greeted him, fixing her throat mic around her neck.

"Afternoon, Darj," he shot a cheeky grin at her, "I'm going to give you some coordinates, you're going to direct Grace to the location with Arthur Company in a convoy, just like we practiced last week. Gawain Company will be joining you, I'll be placing you in overall command of both Companies, while Jess will be commanding only Gawain Company,"

"You're not leading us there? I have a sneaking suspicion this will be a mock battle," Darjeeling let out a short sigh, expecting the next couple of hours to go slowly or badly. But understanding how each Company commander leads, she can almost read what their next moves would be.

"What gives you that idea?" Jason leaned on his elbow, facing the blonde commander.

"The grin you can't seem to put away," she shook her head and slowly exhaled.

"Mm, well that's just because I'm talking to you,"

"Sweet, but it won't work. Shall we get going then? The rest of my company seem to be ready," Darjeeling changed her focus from her mischievous boyfriend to the rest of the tanks in the shed, seeing all of them were ready for the Conqueror to lead them out of the shed. Jason sighed, then pulled a map out of his right breast pocket, unfolding it and handing it to Darjeeling. He winked at her before jumping off the hull and walking back to the office.

Looking down at the map, a route was drawn for her. It took her and the two companies to the top of the fields, as far north as the tank range allowed them. Groaning internally, Darjeeling knew this set-up all too well. She knew that the other 'team' will begin on the other side of the range and they would either fight to destroy a flag tank, eliminate all opponents until none on either team stands, or a newer hill-control gamemode. Darjeeling wondered how the new gamemode would work, but since they have never even talked about it before she thought its appearance for this mock battle was unlikely.

Then she remembered it was Jason who probably organised this, so a trial-by-fire match increased in likability. Shuddering at the thought of it, she crossed her fingers for an elimination match.

Grace led the way, starting their route with a promising 'special training session'. Looking to the other companies, Darjeeling saw Lancelot and Percival companies driving in the opposite direction to where she was going. That was when she knew this was going to be a mock battle.

Taking about six minutes to arrive at the given location, Arthur and Gawain company prepared themselves, setting themselves in a dual line formation.

"Arthur Company, Gawain Company," Darjeeling spoke through the Conqueror's radio to get to all crews in the companies she commanded, "prepare yourselves, I fear we are going to be tasked with a mock battle to test our skills. I hold high hopes for all of you, and I believe we can win this. Try your hardest, and we shall come on top. Good luck out there." Darjeeling ended the transmission and stood up in her cupola, looking out into the fields.

Cambridgeshire isn't necessarily a very hilly place, so vantage points are hard to come by. Vantage points were only slight inclines or declines, thus removing the possibility of a high ground.

"_All units, let me explain why you're here today in teams of two rather than separately," _Angie's voice spoke through the radio rather than Jason's which came as a surprise to most of the crews._ "Arthur and Gawain Company have teamed up to fight Lancelot and Percival Company over some land. The land being the Cambridge Training Grounds. Any cheaters crossing into the enemy frequencies will be penalised and points will be deducted. This is the type of match you will come across in many of your national and international games: Elimination. __Take out as many of the enemy as possible before the time runs out, good luck. The battle starts in two minutes."_

Darjeeling looked at her watch, seeing it was about to hit the hour mark. The second hand ticked by, and right as it turned to three o'clock, a red flare in the centre of the grounds rocketed into the sky.

"All tanks, advance," the calm and easily recognisable voice of Arthur Companies' commander could be heard in every allied crew radio, every vehicle lurched forward, keeping a low speed as Darjeeling started passing orders around. "Arthur Company will take the fields to the south-west, Gawain will take the forest to the south-east. Create a defensive line down the ridge and let no enemy pass you. Arthur will draw fire to the fields, once we find their main attacking force, Gawain will flank and then destroy them," Darjeeling breathed a deep sigh, watching every possible avenue that the two opposing companies could come from. "Remember, slow and steady wins the race, we are not in a rush to lose, so take your time without wasting it. Do not rush in headstrong thinking you are invincible. Good luck, and happy hunting."

Grace pushed down on the throttle and the Conqueror sped up exponentially, hitting its maximum speed quickly. Since improved engines were available now, every vehicle was retrofitted with engines that held an increased power. The Conqueror's engine revved loudly, with the six Chieftains and two Scimitars close behind in an arrowhead formation.

Jess' Gawain Company separated from Darjeeling's company, breaking off towards the forest to the south-east.

Continuing to drive for three minutes, Grace reached the hedgerow that separated the plains with the fields and stopped just before breaching it. The Chieftains lined up at 20 metre intervals, three on each side of the Conqueror. Each one aimed their barrels into the fields beyond the hedges. The two Scimitars sat in wait behind the Conqueror, waiting for reconnaissance orders to be issued.

Darjeeling waited, giving the order to hull-down and wait for the enemy to show themselves. No such thing happened, and two minutes passed without a single gun being shot by either side, not even in the forests.

"Jack, Carol, take your Scimitars and scout the fields ahead, take extreme caution and radio in if you see any enemy movement," Darjeeling pressed the order for reconnaissance, then the two Scimitars idling behind her tank spluttered to life and raced past her, jumping through the greenery without giving away the positions of the Chieftains lying in wait.

As soon as the Scimitars broke the hedgerow, a barrel sparked in the trees beyond the fields and a 120mm shell catapulted past one of the Scimitars. The ARVs turned their turrets and returned fire, then more barrels behind the trees exploded. A salvo of sabot shells flew past the speeding reconnaissance vehicles, barely missing by a hair for each and every shot.

"Pick your targets, then fire. Don't be hasty and misjudge the range. Fire when ready Arthur company."

Seven shots fired simultaneously, all at once the forest came under serious heavy fire. Two shots missed, splintering wood and kicking up mud. Three shots ricocheted, the ringing that the struck armour had produced crossed the fields, being heard from Darjeeling's position. Two shots hit their mark, immobilising an opposing Chieftain and taking out another.

The first vehicle to be taken out belonged to Percival Company.

Darjeeling leaned down into the hull and flicked the boiling vessel on, then started preparing some tea.

"Would you like some, Emilia?" The nonchalant commander asked whilst the brunette was busy man-handling a 55~lbs 120mm shell casing.

"I'm good for now, thanks!" Shooting her a genuine smile, Emilia pushed the charge into the breach. A green light shone by Matt's head, letting him know the gun was ready to fire. He adjusted his sights onto a Chieftain's turret, aiming for the right side of the turret. He pulled the trigger and the whole vehicle vibrated. Smoke left the breach and the hull stopped reverberating in the midst of Emilia loading the next shell. The smoke caused by the barrel slowly dispersed, allowing Darjeeling to confirm the hit.

Another Chieftain was taken out, and the rest of Percival's forces began retreating.

"Hare Squad," Darjeeling referred to the two Scimitars dancing in the field, dodging as many shells as tank-ly possible, "return to us, thank you for incidentally providing us with their positions," the Scimitars twisted their hulls towards the hedgerow, then literally raced each other back to the Conqueror's position.

There were zero casualties on Darjeeling's side, but two on the oppositions. A boy name Elliot commanded Lancelot Company, and a girl called Fuyumin commanded Percival Company. Elliot is a quiet boy who seems to have a peculiar affinity for armoured warfare, always talking about the history behind specific tanks and tank battles. He was also an excellent commander, Darjeeling guessed that he may watch documentaries and read manuals on tank commanding, maybe even studied Sensha-do matches and how each commander had differing tactics.

"Gawain Company, How is the situation in the forest?" Darjeeling put a pair of headphones onto her head. Once the shooting began between Arthur and Percival, a firefight broke out in the forest.

"Um, so far so good!" A series of detonations and ricochets could be heard from Jess's mic, then both girls and boys shouting at each other. "Would you quiet down! I'm on the bloody phone to Darj!- I don't care if they're shooting at us, shoot them back! -Well don't let them see our weakspots and readjust fire, we're not losing this!" Darjeeling held the headphones a little bit away from her ears when Jess shouted at her crew and the neighbouring one. "Sorry about that, so far no casualties on our side, but their big Centurion is here and two of our Chieftains don't have front drive wheels anymore because of it. Also those Conways are scary."

"I'll send half of my company to aid you, expect them to arrive in two minutes. Don't let them gain any ground." Darjeeling finally managed to make her tea, only just putting the teabag in a small bin beside the boiling vessel and adding in the milk.

"Yes ma'am!" Jess laughed, then ended the transmission. Darjeeling stood out of her cupola and sipped her tea. Taking one hand off the saucer, she held down a button on her throat mic.

"George, Kayleigh, Ichigo, Jack, could you give supporting fire to Jess's Company while her vehicles can repair their tracks? Attack from the west when assaulting them." As much as it sounded like a question, the commanders receiving it took it as an order. Two Chieftains on Darjeeling's left and the Chieftain on the furthest right broke away from the defensive line and drove behind it, heading towards the forest.

"Harper, Leila, Molly, Carol, advance behind the Conqueror along the western ridge, we'll confuse the enemy by forcing them to fight on multiple fronts, as people say, take a different approach to make things easier," taking another sip from her tea, the blonde commander felt right at home, as taking such a long time away from commanding a team made her anxious. Now, she was calm and collected, could finally make sound decisions and focus of the main task at hand.

Grace pulled the Conqueror out from behind the hedgerow and turned the hull right, seeing the last remaining Chieftains turn with her in the direction of the ridge. The Conqueror took point, and the Chieftains trailed behind the command tank with the Scimitar sitting between the Conqueror and the first Chieftain. The trail that Darjeeling had mapped out took them behind the supposed enemy lines, seeing as Percival had most likely joined Lancelot to take out Gawain. A cheap move to overwhelm the enemy with numbers, but opening fronts drains units and ammunition for the enemy.

"Commander Darjeeling, thank you for the support, they seem to be backing off for now but are still- ow! They're still hitting us quite hard!" Jess shouted through the radio, her voice getting impatient.

"We will be opening a third front and shall push them towards the open fields, there, we can easily pick them off. Remember to count the vehicles you face and the vehicles you see at the beginning of the match. Nine vehicles to each Company. How many do you see?"

"Um... hold on... seven, eight... I see ten. Almost all the big- woah!" Through the radio, Darjeeling heard a shell fly past Jess's tank, "almost all the big ones are here, but I can't see any of the small ones..."

"Look out for them, Jess, they may be flanking you so keep your and your company's head on a swivel, I'll be there soon with support." Darjeeling left the radio to Emilia, letting her contact the other commanders if needed. Closing her eyes and focusing on the rocking of the tank hull, Darjeeling sipped her tea once again. She thought over the situation at hand, visualising the map in her head and the positions of her team and the enemy.

She needed to make sure that the Conqueror had an advantageous position against the Chieftains.

Several minutes of travel time ensued and Darjeeling's forces could hear the sounds of the British guns firing much clearer.

"Carol, I want you to identify the tanks ahead of us, we'll be close by so don't worry about not having support," Darjeeling ducked into the cupola and closed the hatch above her. The three Chieftain commanders did the same, like moles diving into their holes one by one.

The Scimitar broke from the Convoy and sped past the Conqueror, the commander gripping the cupola with her head low. They just broke into the forest, and flashes from barrels could be seen deep within the trees. Soon, only the exhausts coming from Carol's Scimitar could be seen, and the firing from the conflicting tanks got louder.

"Just sneaking up on them now, Darjeeling," Carol's Scimitar was nearing the tanks, maybe twenty to thirty metres away. "They're Percival's, five Chieftains have lined up behind some mounds and rocks, shall I wait for you to arrive or cause a distraction?"

"Wait there Carol, we'll arrive shortly and we'll attack as one," making sure it was on an open channel to the rest of the Chieftains behind her, Darjeeling directed the Conqueror towards Carol's position.

Cautiously driving near Carol's hiding spot, the four sneaking tanks trained their sights on the rears of the enemy Chieftains.

"Fire."

All five barrels erupted in a ball of fire and smoke. Four 120mm sabot shells shot through the forest and plunged themselves deep into the rears of the Chieftains. Three were out immediately. The Scimitar took some time to take out one of them and the last Percival Chieftain had its fuel tanks set on fire. Probably scared shitless now, the last Chieftain tried to run away, but was shot twice more by George's and Ichigo's Chieftains.

"Nice work, the harsh aiming practice by Instructor Montgomery has paid off. Time to move on to the rest," Darjeeling took another sip of her tea before the Conqueror came under serious suppression. Grace panicked and tried to angle the hull, yanking back on the right tiller as more shells flew past, some ricocheting off the turret and the hull.

"Sorry Darj! Most of us got taken out, it's just me and Kate left. They're really mean..." panting, Jess sighed loudly through the radio.

"It's alright, what casualties do you know of?"

"Six Chieftains and one Scimitar in Gawain. One Chieftain support from Arthur got taken out, I'm sorry about that. For Lancelot, both Conways, and one Chieftain, I think... I don't know about the Scorpions- Oh, they've been taken out by your support, as well as Percival's Scimitars."

"That leaves only Lancelot left, Percival have been taken out in their entirety."

"Wow, your company is efficient. I saw Elliot's company going west, away from you, so if we want to rendezvous at the crossing in the north-west we can catch him off-guard."

"A sound decision, but he will be expecting that, please wait a moment," Darjeeling grabbed the map from on top of the radio and looked at it again, studying the area around the crossing. There was a small hill that separated the forest from the fields, and Darjeeling saw this as an opportunity to surprise Elliot's forces from the side. "Jack, Carol, take Jess's Scimitar to the hill to the West and divert fire towards you, make sure they continue West. Immobilise as many as possible, but make sure they continue West. We will lie in wait within the fields. Once they have moved, I want you to keep pestering them."

Approving sound came from the commanders and the three Scimitars left the Chieftains. Jess caught up with Darjeeling, driving alongside the Conqueror.

A minute later, the 30mm cannons burst-fired, echoing through the training grounds. The sounds of ricocheting shells came often but some direct hits could be heard. Darjeeling grinned, internally.

The rest of Darjeeling's forces consisted of the Conqueror, six Chieftains and three Scimitars. Elliot's consisted of both Centurions and two remaining Chieftains. The odds weren't in his favour at all, and Darjeeling became curious. Despite the inferior armour of the Centurions, they were both still operational. He must understand the importance of their weaponry, else he wouldn't have protected them as much as he had already. The 150mm howitzer the Mk.5 AVRE could pack a punch, with anything that got in its way expectedly being blow away. The Sho't Kal Dalet, an Israeli modernisation of the Centurion Mk.10, housed the highest penetrating sabot shells they had at Cambridge Tankery.

The Sharir cannon that was used by the Sho't outgunned the Chieftain Mk.7, it could use APFSDS shell types. Effectively, it was the most dangerous vehicle at the moment and if Elliot could get it put into a hidden spot, it could spell doom for Darjeeling's forces.

"Darjeeling," Carol's voice sounded sad, "their Centurions got us, we've been taken out..."

"All of you?"

"Mhm..."

"Alright, thank you for your help, Carol. Tell the others I appreciate their help,"

"Sure thing, see you later, good luck."

This wasn't turning out how she wanted it to go, Elliot must have been the commander to the Sho't and had his best gunner be put in it.

Darjeeling's forces reached the edge of the field and turned their turrets towards where they expected Elliot's last four tanks to arrive.

It was the wrong direction, and all of his tanks fired upon hers. One Chieftain was taken out straight away and another was immobilised. Two shots ricocheted of the Conqueror's turret, ripping away the spaced armour.

A close quarters battle had begun.

Matt turned the turret towards Elliot's forces, training his sights on the first target. He pulled the trigger on one of the Chieftains. The deafening explosion of the barrel lead to Elliot's second to last Chieftain being taken out, but his forces were equalising the odds rapidly. Soon, four of Darjeeling's Chieftains were taken out, and it turned into a close-quarters three versus three.

Hammering in the next shell, Emilia pushed the lever and Matt fired again. The shell skimmed off the Mk.5's turret, tearing away some of the reactive armour. The 150mm cannon erupted, aimed at Jess's Chieftain. The heavy HESH shell slammed into the front of the turret, soaked by the thick armour and thus causing no damage. Through the smoke, Jess's gunner turned the turret towards the offender and fired in its general direction.

Bursting the drive sprocket off the back of the Centurion, the Chieftain immobilised the Mk.5.

Soon after, a sabot shell implanted itself into the side of Jess's turret and a white flag popped up.

The last Arthur Chieftain fired at the last Lancelot Chieftain, taking it out of the game too.

Darjeeling directed the Conqueror behind a dead teammate, using it as cover while the turret crew could work out what was going on.

Coincidentally, George's loader was lap-loading, the next sabot shell was loaded within mere moments and the Chieftain took the Mk.5 out of the match.

Due to the George's turret turned away, Elliot's gunner had a clear shot into it, and fired.

George's tank was out too, the white flag flapping in the smokey wind.

Elliot against Darjeeling.

The Conqueror's cannon was trained onto the Sho't Kal Dalet's armour.

The Sho't Kal Dalet's cannon was trained onto the Conqueror's armour.

All at once, the gunners in each tank pulled the trigger.


End file.
